Silent Payback
by The Brod Road
Summary: Cartoon-verse. Some time after the series finale, things have gone as smoothly as you'd expect for Lydia, considering the constant adventuring with BJ and company. However, what would happen if some old Neitherworld rivals decide to take things to a whole new extreme? Why, they go too far, of course. Semi-crossover with Silent Hill. Will be BJ/Lydia.
1. Been Long Enough

Beetlejuice in "Silent Payback"

Author's Note: This is a story idea I had started a while ago and had posted 7 chapters of in DeviantArt. I don't know why I didn't think to post it here on FanFiction, but here goes nothing, I suppose.

Cartoon-verse. Crossover with Silent Hill, but merely with concept. I don't think I'll use any other SH characters other than Pyramid Head and some of the known SH demonic denizens. I plan on this eventually having the pairing of BJ/Lydia.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1: Been Long Enough…

The Neitherworld wasn't all hellfire and brimstone, but it wasn't all fluffy clouds and halos either. Like most things, it depended on where you went in this particularly wacky afterlife. Some would say that it would depend on who you asked about the subject.

If you asked a certain group of 7 individuals, the afterlife is a living (or is it dying?) Hell, all originally caused by one poltergeist and his living Goth-girl cohort…

Somewhere deep within the slums of Los Diablos, Caliscornia, away from the decadently-gross mansions of the rich and heinous, there was one derelict building that stood out from the other nicely broken homes: the large, obvious crimson-red banner with the acronym "S.N.O.T.R.A.G." hanging off the roof. Other factions of L.D.'s criminal masses think of the banner as a suicidal invitation for the LDPD. The members of SNOTRAG see it as free advertising. Inside the run-down shanty, an odd assortment of undead were assembled, mostly by lounging in a chair, the floor, or (in Jesse Germs' case) flopped on the rat-infested couch.

"Ehh… So what's this meetin' about, Mr. Big?" huffed Jesse Germs, the skeletal outlaw, a few stubborn strips of decomposing flesh still on him. He showed his boredom by refusing to lift his cowboy hat from over his eyes as he slacked.

"Yeah! I doubt we're here to watch Captain Kidder's new TV special!" guffawed Scuzzo the Clown. The hunchbacked lunatic hadn't changed much over the few years either. Then again, the more-inferior clowns rarely change their act…

"Mr. Monitor is quite naughty to give airtime to that puny hack" quipped Little Miss Warden. Puberty had done a number on the leader of NeitherNeitherWorld. Now 14 (by living standards), she had already gained some curves and a small chest, but still keeps to her publicly-known obsession of girly-girl doll fashions. Her blonde curls now sprawl down to the middle of her back. She was currently licking her way through a novelty giant-sized lollipop.

"No, see? I called this meeting for one big reason, see?" the Capone-esque voice of Mr. Big sneered as he stood below a giant TV screen. Yes, below. Much to the old-school gangster's chagrin, he had not grown at all, not even one inch. "We here at SNOTRAG have managed to get a foothold in the crime racket since moving to the City of Devils, yes. But that is only because of the lack of interference from a certain problem, a problem that we have never defeated, see…?"

"Err, generic stereotyping?" answered Bartholomew Batt, still uber-retro as ever.

"Cliché schemes? If I have to rob just ONE more bank, I'll…" grumbled Jesse.

"Your breath?" honked Fuzzo, Scuzzo's non-speaking sidekick. (Scuzzo provided verbal translation)

"No, you buncha rubes! Beetlejuice!" snapped Mr. Big as he threw his fedora hat to the ground. "The fact that we still haven't destroyed him bothers me. What if he decides to come here and clean our clocks?"

"You make it sound like he's that vigilante from the Living World, Batman. We all know he doesn't care what icky criminals do as long as they're not in his slimy way" snarled Miss Warden. Bartholomew glared. "Hey! I'm the only bat guy on this show, ya understand me, girly?!"

Warden smirked. "I knew that would get you upset. Very naughty to yell at a lady, Barty!" she chided as she smacked the black-n-white villain upside the head with her lolly. Scuzzo and Fuzzo pointed and laughed, as they are wont to do.

Mr. Big fired his tommy gun into the air. "Enough! Don't you get it?! Sure, we're succeeding here! We actually mean something, even if we're small-time right now, see? But we all know that, on a whim, he could find out where we are, barge in here, and beat us just for fun! FUN! Remember our past attempts?!"

A very unlady-like growl couldn't help but escape from the mouth of Miss Warden. A memorable defeat in recent years involved her trying to use a Love potion on Beetlejuice in yet another attempt to "fix" him (and to strategically drive a wedge between him and his all-important ally, Lydia). However, as bad luck would have it, she ended up being the first female he saw after being tricked into drinking it. Long story short, BJ ended up being her first kiss… ever. She didn't know what was worse: her getting her ass kicked or the fact that if Lydia hadn't managed to put a stop to the potion's effects when she did, Warden wouldn't be a virgin today… She had learned an important lesson after that: If you're going to trick an enemy of the opposite sex into drinking a love potion, don't appear and make some sort of erudite speech the second after he swallows it…

Jesse chuckled. "That first romance still buggin' ya, doll? At least I stick to my side of the law when it comes to the ladies" Warden seethed in silence in one of the few moments where her face actually didn't look so cute… Scuzzo and Fuzzo guffawed again. Typical demented clowns, they laugh at anyone's misfortune. Mr. Big clicked on the big-screen which began showing random clips of the many solo and team attempts to attack and end Beetlejuice.

"I've learned something from this, see? ...Most of our plans seem good on paper, they're superb in execution, but… we can never seem to hold the advantage. Why, you rubes?! There's ALWAYS something getting in the way, see? And that something is… HER!" he says, pausing the clip show right as a good view of a familiar mortal girl came up. Scuzzo and Fuzzo ceased their laughter as the paused clip was of the mortal cramming a banana-scream pie in Fuzzo's face.

Her raven-black hair was done up into that ever-present topknot, despite the fact that it had grown as much as she did. Her signature red/black spiderweb-patterned poncho looked smaller, but it was more to accentuate her developing figure. At the time of this clip, she was still quite petite, just taller with the hint of breasts and thighs. Her face was quite striking with cute pouty lips, her still-tiny nose, and dark eyes that would catch anyone's attention if she were to seek it. Attractive, for a mortal…

Mr. Big frowned. "Yes, this girl… If we are to bury Beetlebreath once and for all, we have to do something about her but good!"

"But what? We aren't murderers, are we? That would be very naughty! Besides, aren't you being paranoid? That's very rude and untrustworthy! We're here now, they're on the East Coast!" Warden piped up, sounding nervous about Big's implications, despite her rage.

"At this point, dame, I don't give a damn. We got to do something! Make the first move before he does, see?!"

Warden sat back down and sucked on her lolly, muttering something about a jack-in-the-box and baseless fears.

"I got it!" The voice came from a corner, the owner being the only member of SNOTRAG to have not spoken yet throughout this meeting, despite his nature. A big mouth in a very literal sense, Lipscum was sporting a wide smile as he held up a macabre-looking book.

"This girl is alive, right? Right? Yeah! So that means she's from the Otherworld, yes? The world of living people? I got something about the living world that we could use as a weapon if this is done right. Let's use it! Hit 'em where it hurts, huh? Huh?!"

Jesse Germs lifted his hat to take a glance at what the lamebrain had. "Ugh… I thought it was common law nowadays that no one should trust dangerous-looking books. Seen this scenario so many times, ever since the Necronomicon got loose… This doesn't sound groovy to me!" With that, he pulled his filthy cowboy hat all the way over his face, disapprovingly.

"Wait, that happened? I thought that was legend, or at least a good joke!" Scuzzo chuckled.

"Nyaah, that "falling apart at the seams" schtick worked when Lipscum got him to say it. Let's hear this out. Wha'dya have, pal?" sneered Bartholomew.

The grin on Lipscum's face, if it could be called that, got wider. "Ever hear of a little town called Silent Hill…?"

Author's Note: And there's Chapter 1. Not sure if I should just load the 7 current chapters I have all at once or perhaps one chapter a day or something. Either way, I hope that you enjoy this and please review. I would appreciate suggestions and comments, especially since I still need to work on Chapter 8… I've been on hiatus on this, sadly… But hopefully, some feedback might bring some inspiration or motivation.


	2. Evening Plans

Author's Note: Ok, I'll post chapter 2 in the same day. Why not? After all, Chapter 1 was strictly all on the villains. Lol. Hope you're enjoying it so far. I do hope the BJ and Lydia segment isn't too hammy or corny. I would think that, as Lydia gets older, BJ would think that she wouldn't mind him being a little more blunt and/or forward about some things. Not to mention, I did say that this is a BJ/Lydia but I'm planning on them actually getting together somewhere toward the end of this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing that happens to be used or mentioned.

Chapter 2: Evening Plans

Though she was a good student, 18-year-old Lydia Deetz was always glad when school let out for the day. Good grades or not, she didn't exactly consider lectures as a fun time. Not that she wasn't goal oriented. After all, she intended on a career based on photography. But it was hard not to get excited about having her two oldest friends, Bertha and Prudence, over for a sleepover.

Unfortunately for her, life at Peaceful Pines High wasn't totally peaceful as she still shared classes with her rich nemesis, Claire Brewster. The blonde snob still tended to make Lydia's social life hell. But the Goth endured, mostly due to the support of her growing group of friends. The continuing adventures with a certain undead best friend led to her gaining enough confidence to put herself out there and be more social, no matter what Claire said.

But now, all she wanted to do was spend some quality time with her oldest friends. She smiled as she drove her little black and purple Subaru (yes, a custom paint job) into the Deetz's driveway, thinking of the good ol' days when she would ride her bike home to say a certain name three times. Of course, she still maintained very constant contact with Beetlejuice, but there had been so many moments that made her smile whenever she thought of him.

"Hi, Dad! Hey Delia" she said automatically as she entered, knowing her father and stepmom would be around somewhere. Sure enough, Charles Deetz was sitting on his armchair, eating a light snack while watching the daytime replay of the previous night's Colbert Report. 'Chicken Liver' Chuckie, as a certain spectre still called him, was still a fearful man, but not as cowardly as he used to be. Being used to the actions of the Deetz's handyman, Beetleman, had that effect. He had managed to slim down a little over time, but other than that and his hair beginning to grey, he looked the same.

"Hi pumpkin!" said Charles, smiling at his pride and joy. "Tonight's the big sleepover, huh?"

"Well, I don't know about it being big. It's just Bertha and Prudence" Lydia giggled, taking her shoes off and setting them by the door with the others.

"I know. But we did say that it would be ok to invite some of your other friends. It's not often life gives you a chance to throw a party."

"Yes, but they say that college parties are better!" she immediately replied, causing both of them to laugh before Lydia climbed the stairs toward her room.

Lydia's bedroom had undergone a few changes over the years, but the gothic style that she had made her own was still there. Same large bed with curtains, same purple window curtains, same vanity mirror. Her walls were slightly more decorated with posters and pictures that she took. She had saved enough money to get herself an Xbox 360 (a black one, of course). Her game collection varied due to her letting BJ get into gaming too. Why else would a girl like her own the disgraced Duke Nukem Forever? Not every game lets you use actual human shit as a weapon, but that's another story.

She lightly tossed her backpack on her bed and pulled her shirt off, needing to change into something more comfortable. The lacy black bra she wore hid a pair of suitable B-cup breasts, fitting for her slender frame. A part of her wondered what Beetlejuice thought of her appearance. It wasn't the first time that a thought like that crossed her mind and, as always, a slew of confusing emotions followed. First, slight disgust due to Beetlejuice being undead. Next, a little shame since she knows that the only difference between the living and the intelligent undead (as compared to the mindless kind such as zombies) is only the lack of a heartbeat. Thirdly, her ever-growing young libido would ponder what would happen if he was indeed attracted to her. (What 18-year-old didn't have fantasies?) After all, dead or not, she does find the idea of giving herself to someone she knew practically her entire life to be quite romantic.

She blushes as she looks in the vanity mirror, thinking of her best friend. Out of curiosity, she gently pushes her breasts together as if to try and make them look bigger. She sighs, remembering how Claire would always flaunt her firm D-cups whenever she felt like teasing Lydia in the gym locker room.

"Hey Babes, how's…WOW!"

Beetlejuice just HAD to pick that very moment to check in on his favorite mortal. It wasn't intentional, of course. Just happened to be the luck of the draw. He wanted to see her, like always, but this time, he got to see quite a bit of his pretty friend. He wasn't sure when he started to think of her as more than a best friend. Perhaps it was the fact that of all the women in the Neitherworld, she was the only one that always stuck by him, no matter how scummy he was. Maybe it was her blossomed figure as she grew toward womanhood. Most likely, it's both reasons. But of course, he won't admit it. He would claim his macho pride as a reason, but deep down, he felt that there would be a strong chance that she would be repulsed by his non-living state. Little did he know…

"Umm… Hi, Beej…" squeaked Lydia, frozen in shock at the knowledge that she was sporting one of her kinkier bras and her hands were still squishing her boobs together.

"Lookin' good, Lyds! You know how to press a guy's buttons!" he cackled, pulling apart his pinstriped jacket to reveal a set of random buttons on his chest. A disembodied copy of Lydia's right hand proceeds to rapidly button-mash while random video game sound effects play. Lydia lets her chest go and laughs at his display. Whatever the case, he really seemed to know how to make her feel better.

"So, you like the view, huh?" she asked, smirking as she put her hands on her hips.

"You nuts, babes?" he asked, Lydia-shaped peanuts rained on his head. "Claire may have the tits, but that's all she has."

"How'd you know she's been teasing me again?"

"Aside from the fact that I change clothes more often than she changes targets…" he paused to smell his own stench. A foghorn sounded… "it's kinda obvious when a chick looks at herself in the mirror, wondering if she should trade her body in for a new one…"

"Sorry, BJ."

"Pfft… Don't be, babes! That li'l tease was the best thing I've seen today!"

"So I AM ugly, is that it?" she frowned, knowing his preference for disgusting things.

"Wha? NO! What?! I can't like sexy ghouls too? Jeez, my best friend thinks I'm so one-dimensional about gross!" he said, turning into a one-dimensional puny dot. "Oops…"

"Sexy? Me…?" she wondered. She always thought she looked halfway-decent and some of the guys at school would look (when Claire wasn't trying to attract them), but no one ever called her sexy before.

"One second, babes. I need a moment to… hmm…. Expand my image!" said the floating tiny dot, the pun succeeding in turning him back to his normal form. "Alright! Ya were sayin'?"

Lydia giggled. "Beetlejuice… C'mon, you think I'm beautiful?"

"Hey, what can I say? You've really bloomed into quite the eyeful!" he exclaimed, his head turning into a giant eye that began staring at a giant rose that had Lydia's head in its center.

"Aww… How sweet of you!" the Goth girl replied, genuinely touched.

"Yuck! Babes, don't say that!" the poltergeist stuck his finger down his throat, faux-gagging.

"Whatever, Beej. Thank you for the compliment" she grinned.

"Ahh, you'll get some guy someday" Beetlejuice said reassuringly. 'Wish I could be that guy…' he mentally grumbled. He knew better than to act on it…or so he thinks.

"Yeah… Maybe that guy's closer than I think" she replied with a smirk, wondering if she should say something, put the idea out there. After all, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the sight she accidentally gave him. Promising herself that she'd give the idea some serious thought, she turned around and went to her closet to pick out a more casual attire.

"So, wanna do somethin'?" The mischievous poltergeist leaned forward on the mirror, watching her walk away. He couldn't help but take notice of her long legs and cute ass, even though she had black jean-shorts on. (It wouldn't be BJ without him acting a little perverted.)

"Sorry, BJ, but Bertha and Prudence are coming over for a sleepover tonight" she answered, pulling on a baggy Rolling Stones shirt. The jean-shorts would stay. She began to pull her hair up to assemble her usual topknot.

"Can Betty be involved? There's really nothing much going on in the Neitherworld right now."

"Beej!" Lydia groaned, failing to hold back an amused smirk. "I would like this to be incident-free, just a night with my oldest friends" Then, she saw the look on his face. Once again, she could never figure out how a poltergeist with a penchant for the disgusting could manage to pull off that classic puppy-dog look that no one could refuse. "Sigh… But I guess I shouldn't exclude you. After all, out of the three of you, you're the oldest friend I have… literally!" she giggled at the annoyed look on his face. "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice BEETLEJUICE!"

"Alright!" sneered the ghost with the most as he floated through the mirror into her room. Soon, once again, it would be showtime!

Unfortunately for Peaceful Pines, another kind of show would also open soon…..

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

It has been five days since Lipscum informed the other members of SNOTRAG about the demented town and its grotesque horrors, three days since they dared venture out to Silent Hill to scout it out (no thanks to the town's dark aura weakening the barrier between worlds), two days since their narrow escape, and one day since their research yielded a way to inflict Silent Hill's horrors onto a different Otherworld place.

"Nyaah, by the time the curse is in full effect, that Deetz girl will pay and Beetlejoke will be to blame! Nyahaha!" chortled Bartholomew, spreading his bat-wings for dramatic effect.

"It is no less than what he deserves, that unruly ruffian!" pouted Miss Warden as she eyed the curse's components with a wary nervousness. She had changed her mind about the human girl's punishment when the others agreed to find a way to frame Beetlejuice for it. Her apprehension about the components was not surprising, since the items included the standards of demonic fare: A big pentagram on the ground, red candles placed at certain intervals, goblets of blood, a skull or two, an actual black heart, a brain from a truly disturbed individual, and the oddest piece of all, a well-crafted display model of Peaceful Pines itself.

"Yes, see? And if anything were to happen to all the other mortals in that town, which most certainly will…" mused Mr. Big, skimming the very same book that Lipscum had found for them.

"Then all the more laughs for us! Right, Fuzzo?" Scuzzo burst out laughing. He could really be sadistic when he wanted to…

"What the hell are we waiting for then? High Noon? Let's get a move on, pardners…" grumbed Jesse as he carefully moved the model town to the center of the pentagram.

"Well said, cowpoke. Nyaah!" quipped Bartholomew as he crammed the insane brain into a skull as the instructions said. He then placed the creepy cranium on the model, on top of a 'hill' with its jaws open.

Scuzzo honked his horn and laughed as Fuzzo grabbed the blackened heart and placed it on the model, in the middle of a store's parking lot, not too far from the skull. Another step closer…

Miss Warden, a bit nauseous about her part, grabbed the goblets of forcibly-taken blood and pattered over to the model. Mr. Big, the dramatics of his role on display, raised his arms as if about to 'juice' someone himself.

"Powers of the cruelest dark, taker of life, purveyor of sin… This mortal town we offer to you dark gods as nourishment for your vast dominion. Curse those that have repulsed your vision of fear and loathing. Rend those that dare to feel remorse for indulging in the sacred sins! From Hell's black heart, I curse thee, Peaceful Pines, SEE?!"

As he spoke the dreadful words, Miss Warden slowly poured the goblets into the open mouth of the skull. As the speech finished and the goblets emptied, the skull's eyes began to glow red and the black heart began beating. The candle flames flickered as if a gust of wind was blowing and the pentagram itself glowed a reddish-black. SNOTRAG backed away, hoping they didn't screw up.

The model town began to decay and change, becoming a twisted nightmare of its former self. The pentagram's round border seemed to exude an aura of some sort, perhaps a forcefield . The group (except for a cowering Lipscum who backed up against a wall) snickered, knowing that the Neitherworld's Least Wanted will finally take the big fall.

The slums of Los Diablos couldn't explain the dark crimson glow that suddenly emanated from the well-advertised HQ of SNOTRAG. But nobody cared. Death (like life) goes on…

Author's Note: And there's Chapter 2. Pardon SNOTRAG's little ceremony if it's nothing like other dark ceremonies often portrayed in horror stuff. Obviously, I'm no Satanist or any sort of Cultist (Thank goodness). So I improvised and managed to include a certain Movie-verse item for kicks. So the plot begins!

Reviews are most certainly appreciated! Thank you.


	3. There Was Peace Here It's Gone Now

Author's Note: Alright, new day, new chapter, carried right over from DeviantArt. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Chapter 3: There Was Peace Here. It's Gone Now.

At the time of the villains' dark ceremony, Lydia's friends had arrived and the girls (and 'Betty') were in her room, taking turns at playing Resident Evil 5. Bertha was as tall and lanky as ever, though her face looked considerably less awkward since her teeth finally evened out. Sure, she still had buck-teeth, but they weren't as obvious now. Her voice also improved with age, but still sounded a little funny. Prudence, on the other hand, was still tiny at the height of 4'2, but puberty rewarded her with a decent set of curves and flowing red hair. The rest of the nerds and geeks at Peaceful Pines High regarded her as the hottest chick of the clique, even though she modestly stated that she didn't want such attention. She now wore smaller glasses that accentuated the rest of her face.

Betty Juice, however, never changed, with the exception of having a large rack (to give the illusion that 'she' was aging with them). He was currently glaring at the TV as he watched his characters battle a seemingly-hopeless 'duel' with the game's main villain.

"Seven minutes, eh Wesker? I can whip ya in five!" grunted Betty, his pseudo-female voice scratchy as ever. He maneuvered his guy into a better hiding spot and searched his inventory for the magnum.

"Could you turn down the intensity, Betty? The smell of your sweat is gonna make me puke in four minutes…" groaned Prudence, who sat nearby. Lydia chuckled. "Yeah, Betty. It's just a game" said the resident Goth, smiling.

Betty moaned. "But I want that achievement!" Bang! Magnum bullet hits target.

"I know, I know. It's a tough one." Lydia pat Betty on the shoulder, seeing him narrowly dodge Wesker's kung-fu counterattacks. Ironic how a no-longer-human poltergeist was playing the role of a mortal fighting a war against an anti-humanity psychopath.

As Betty's digital battle continued, something suspicious was starting to happen. In a nearby neighborhood, in front of the hill that housed the Deetz residence, a thick fog started to roll in, despite the cloudless, starry sky, complete with full moon. The fog bank moved quickly, as if it had a purpose. Almost as if it were alive… Those few people that were out walking at this time of night suddenly felt the strong urge to get indoors and stay there, though they couldn't say why. The creepy clouds rolled past a vacant empty spot in the block…only it wasn't empty. Or was it ever empty?

None of the few citizens that were outside cared to know why they had never seen this small one-story building before. No one even pointed out how odd it was that not one straight male had noticed this strip club until now, nor the odder fact that it's in a residential area known for many families and children. But why care about that when Heaven's Night promises many feminine luxuries for all…?

But lust would soon demand a heavy price from its unsuspecting patrons. The fog rolled on, uncaring except of its mission to blanket the town. The peace is broken…

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

Claire Brewster was and is nothing more than just another spoiled rich blonde looking out for number one, not unlike the stereotype that can be seen on plenty of TV shows, both reality and scripted. Tall, well-endowed, and with the perfect skin-shade of tan, she loved attention from boys. But only the handsome ones. Of course… She never liked anything considered to be a 'flaw'. In her "like, totally" honest opinion, imperfections existed to be terminated and that definitely included entire human beings in some cases.

Her hit list was simple: The fat, the disfigured, the poor… and Lydia. For the life of her, she could not figure out why she just can't seem to even shake this particular Goth, much less banish her. She teased her about anything, sabotaged just about every school project and activity Lydia ever did, even occasionally paid hunky guys to bully her about her appearance. Yet everything had backfired since the days of Miss Shannon's. It was as if the Goth had some sort of life-long guardian angel!

At the moment, she lies on her bed, growling still about how her arch-nemesis nonchalantly blew her off while she was pushing her around about how Claire was "like, totally the hotter babe". 'How dare she! She should be, like, totally worshipping my breasts! Wait… that, like, came out wrong…? Nah, I'm always right!' she stormed, not caring about her accidental innuendo.

As she seethed, she didn't notice the fog flowing in around her mansion, outside her large windows. As it engulfed the luxurious symbol of financial superiority, all the lights went out. The sudden darkness shook Claire from her furious train of thought. She could hear the voices of her 'mumsy' and 'dadsy', complaining about how lame the electric company is for allow blackouts for the rich. They had no idea that the power was actually still on… But Claire knew. No, not because of any actual intelligence, but because she heard the soft noise of static from her cutesy pink radio. But wait a minute… Just static? She frowned, feeling gypped that whatever is causing this didn't even let her listen to her Justin Bieber playlist.

Eyeing the fog outside her window as she sat up, she got an uneasy feeling. She was reminded of those strange incidents of her getting trounced by her gothic rival. There was nothing normal about some of those defeats, she knew that much… Claire got up and walked toward her window-doors, where her balcony lay beyond. She could barely see her front yard and driveway through the ever-present fog as she unconsciously checked the lock. Finding her balcony door effectively secure, she stared into the grey abyss, unable to shake the feeling of disconcerting dread.

Her radio suddenly got louder, the static sounding rougher. She quickly turned around. Nothing at her radio, the volume knob hadn't even been moved. But that didn't calm her down. How could it? Something was happening, no doubt about it. She turned back and looked through the glass again. She couldn't be sure but she saw… something on her driveway. She believed it was a person, but… why was he crawling? Or scooting around like a big worm…? And what was that big spot in the middle of the walkway that led to the porch? Some sort of stain?

Unnerved, she backed away from the window. She almost tripped over her makeover chair that was in front of her big, light-bulb-bordered vanity mirror. Regaining her balance, she gives in to the fear and dives onto her bed, hiding under the sheets. After a minute or two, she calmed down enough to want to try and do something about the loud static. When she uncovered herself from the sheets, she immediately saw that she was far from alone. On the ceiling, right above her, was what appeared to be two pairs of mannequin legs glued together at the torso, one pair used as the arms/head. And it was writhing, like a spastic Spider-Man.

A scream was heard in the night. It wasn't going to be the only one…

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

Betty Juice had a bad feeling. It definitely wasn't the prospect of Prudence's chances against the Uroboros monster in RE5. No… Whatever he was sensing was supernatural and it didn't seem to be of the friendly sort. The fact that he sensed something had him concerned but this animosity… It worried him, although he tried to not let it show. What if whatever was out there tries to attack here? He stood up and went to Lydia's window, ignoring said girl's puzzled glance.

Since the Deetz house was seated atop a hill, Betty had a good vantage point to look over the town, especially if he stretched his eyeballs out of their sockets to make pseudo-binoculars. A massive cloud of thick fog hindered his vision somewhat but he could still make out a few things. For instance, the 'new' building in the next neighborhood. Judging from its décor and sign, it was obviously a strip club. But how did it get there? Neither he nor Lydia saw or heard any noise of construction. Besides, what sane mortal official would approve of that in a family area?

Stranger were the appearances of some of the departing patrons. Sure, they slogged around like typical drunks, but why were their clothes bloody and their limbs limp and greyed? He wondered if he should be thankful that he couldn't see any of their faces.

Looking elsewhere, he couldn't see half of downtown. Partially, it was the fog, but mostly it was because entire blocks seemed to be barricaded by very tall, halfway-made, filthy, crappy walls that appeared out of nowhere. The telltale orange-red glow of a fairly-large fire could be seen near the eastern wall, outside of the new 'border'.

"What the hell's goin' on….?" muttered Betty to himself, unaware that he forgot to use his female voice. Luckily, the girls didn't notice, but Lydia began to wonder what he was looking at.

Directing his zoomed-in gaze eastward, he noticed several scattered people fleeing from different forms of… he couldn't tell what they were. There was no mistaking their inhumanity. Perhaps these beings were demonic? After all, the known Neitherworld never seen such things. At least not the realms that BJ and Lydia had ever been to… His eyes landed on a certain eyesore: the Brewster Mansion. Although, parts of the building did somehow morph into some sort of decayed industrial structure…which made the place look a little better to the poltergeist! Speaking of Brewster, there was the snobby bitch now, running around the yard being chased by… female mannequin legs?

"We're bein' invaded by Hell…" mumbled Betty, almost as if chuckling at a joke. The kind of joke that only the insane would understand. Then, it hit him. "WE'RE BEING INVADED! YAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Panicking, he ran from the window, yanked Lydia out of her seat, and rushed into the closet, slamming the door.

"Beet—Betty! What's gotten into you?! That virus doesn't exist, you know! Prudence just has to try again" fumed Lydia, arms crossed, her dark eyes glaring.

"No, Lyds! It's not that! Somethin' horrible's goin' on out there!" he exclaimed, so freaked out he ditched his female voice altogether. "The town… It's taking over! It's got bats in its belfry!" He pulled his head off and a few bats escaped from his skull. "It's under siege!" A group of swords surrounded him, pointing at him.

"What?" Lydia was taken aback. She opened the closet door and went straight to the window, Bertha and Prudence watching her with confused expressions. A shriek from Lydia got everyone running to the window. Bertha and Prudence also screamed when they saw the newly-deformed Peaceful Pines. The four noticed that the big cloud of fog seemed to head straight for them.

"Perhaps we'll be spared…?" Betty asked, the bowling signal for a spare printed on his face. The lights going out, the TV turning to static, and the stereo system churning out a combination of static and a creepy melody (1) told him otherwise.

"Looks like we're in the gutter… Alright, you! Care to explain why my town is straight out of a horror movie?!" screamed Lydia, glaring at Betty.

"Me?!"

"Her?" Bertha and Prudence said in unison.

"It wasn't me, Babes! I like your town! …Mostly 'cause you live here… but still!" said Betty as 'she' dropped to his knees, begging Lydia to believe him.

"Hmm… You're right. This is too freaky to be your style. We're in trouble, BJ" Lydia decided, pulling BJ to his feet.

"Uhh… Lydia? What are you two talking about?" asked Bertha, scared.

"Sigh… I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this… but it looks like it's time…" Lydia paused. "Betty isn't all she seems to be…" Lydia flicked on a battery-powered lamp so they could all see better. At least that still worked…

"What? She's some sort of evil sorceress or something?" asked Prudence.

"Well…" began Lydia, but she was interrupted…by a male voice.

"Relax, Babes. I think it's better just to show 'em" said Beetlejuice. He reached up over his head and… pulled a zipper down past Betty's face and down her body until Beetlejuice, pinstriped suit and all, floated out of his former disguise. "Hi… How'ya doin'? As Beetlejuice said his trademark greeting, Bertha and Prudence began to faint until the ghoul grabbed the duo. "Oh Hell no, we're not having that on this show!" he growled, lightly shaking the nervous outcasts.

"Beej! They're just scared! If I was in their position, I would be too!" scolding Lydia, guiding her friends over to her bed for them to sit down. Beetlejuice frowned, knowing their situation wasn't going to get any better for a while. Case in point, Charles and Delia Deetz walking in to check on the girls only to find the additional company of a floating Mr. Beetleman. Time to explain….

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

"So… Our handyman is a…?" Charles was left speechless at his daughter's big confession.

"Well, technically, I'm a bio-exorcist, but you guys seem to have grown on me, so 'poltergeist' is fine" Beetlejuice answered, cackling as little replicas of Lydia, Charles, and Delia grew out of his back. Charles yelped, as did Bertha and Prudence. Delia, looking as red-headed and flighty as ever, frowned.

"You do realize, Mr. Beetlejuice, that other than the fact that you're quite dead, it would still seem quite odd for an older man to be the best friend of a young woman since she was twelve?" inquired the usually-ditzy Deetz.

"Talk about cradle-robbing!" snickered Prudence, who had to laugh at the fact that she came up with a perfect zinger to use on the former Betty Juice.

Beetlejuice glared at the little nerd, wearing a thief's outfit with a replica of Baby-Lydia in his arms. "Hey! That's not how it is! And why didn't I think of that pun!?" As the joke-effect dissipated, he turned back to Delia. "Anyways, Mrs. D, to the dead, age is nothing. Sure, the dead can die again, but not by natural causes. Usually, it's sandworm attacks, but that's another story. Point is, I met Lydia soon after you guys moved in. Curious little scamp, she was. Shy though…" Lydia blushed, remembering how she used to stammer and be shocked by a lot of things during that first year.

"After she figured out how to summon me, we hung out. She told me about herself, I showed her the Neitherworld. That's the afterlife-"

"You took her to Hell!?" snapped Delia, instantly fearing for her step-daughter's sanity.

"NO! I've never even been there! The Neitherworld has plenty of realms, but I've heard a lot about Hell before and I have the common sense to not even wanna venture there. No way."

"Yeah, Mom. Actually, it's just like Earth, only a lot less sanitary. We got into some risky adventures, but BJ always made sure I came back in one piece. I've seen him do some awe-inspiring things just to make sure I was safe and I can't thank him enough" Lydia said, placing an arm around her smelly best friend.

"Lyds… That was TOO nice…" BJ groaned, placing a palm on his forehead. But her praise seemed to make him feel… happy? Not surprising, since if all else failed, he could always count on her, just as she could count on him.

"Right now, we have ourselves a situation" Lydia started, her voice going from 'best friend' to 'veteran heroine' just like that. "Peaceful Pines, as you all can see, is being overwhelmed by a mysterious force. I'm not even sure if any of this is Neitherworldian. But I do have a suspicion that answers may lie there."

Beetlejuice went to the window, using his 'binoculars' to look around again. Prudence coughed before addressing Lydia. "So… we're all going to this… Neitherworld?"

"Yes, Pru. Hopefully, it'll be safer at the Roadhouse."

Suddenly, BJ began laughing hysterically. "Yo, Lyds! Ya gotta see what ol' Brewster's got herself into!"

Lydia gasped. "Claire's still in town?! I thought she would have fled!"

"Oh, she tried, Lyds…" BJ snickered, his green teeth appearing slightly sinister. Lydia grabbed her own binoculars from a drawer and went to the window, looking toward the Brewster residence. The fog made it a little difficult, but she eventually saw a harried Claire clinging to the top of a tree, the branches having ripped her nightie off during her mad rush upward, leaving her in nothing but bright-pink lingerie. At the bottom of the same tree were a couple of weird abominations. Four pairs of female marionette legs, two pairs glued to each other by the waist to make two leggy monsters. Neither could figure out how to climb the tall tree.

"Hoo boy… Beej, you'd better do something…" she said. If the situation weren't so grim, she would have laughed at the prospect of a nearly-nude Claire stuck up a tree.

"What?! You want me to save HER? After all she's done?!" Beetlejuice understood that Lydia was a good-natured person and would always be like that, but he sometimes couldn't fathom the depths of her kindness.

"We got to, BJ. It's the right thing to do. Please? For me…?" she asked, looking quite like a lost little girl, despite her experiences with the supernatural. Beetlejuice then understood what was bothering his gothic best buddy so much. Her hometown, the one thing that was as constant in her life as her parents, her friends, BJ himself, and even Claire's attacks, was being taken away. Saving Claire, despite the rivalry, would at least be… something toward a rescue effort. Who knew what kind of troubles the rest of the town's people were facing? Not to mention, how risky would it be to have BJ scout around and save anyone he could find? It would take hours at least, hours of Lydia and company being possibly left vulnerable… BJ wouldn't like it, but he knew what had to be done. Sighing, he nodded.

"Thank you, Beetlejuice… Be careful" she said, her mood growing sad as she watched the devastation continue. He could see a lot of things in those big dark eyes of hers. Fear for her friends and family, barely-contained panic about the destruction, sadness about the possibility that people died this night… A storm of emotion that even a supposedly-nasty spirit like him had to sympathize with. Then again, in his case, he just hates it when Lydia suffers.

Taking her best wishes as his cue, he floated up. "Babes, if I'm not back with Miss Priss in tow after five minutes…" he paused…and paused. "…wait some more! You know what to do if anything bad starts happenin' here. As for me, it's time to play hero again!" he cackled, morphing into his UltraBeetleMan attire. He went through the walls transparently, laughing into the foggy night. Perhaps he could have fun with this mission…

Author's Note: The invasion begins! Now things get a bit heavy. Yeah, I'm including Claire in this fic. Hopefully, that idea can work well.

(1) The music I had in mind for that part is the instrumental piece "Frost" by a band called Enslaved. Gamers may find this music familiar if they played and beaten "Brutal Legend". The song's awesomely creepy. Depressing, though.

Anyways, feel free to leave me some reviews. I'd love to know how I'm doing. Seriously, I'd appreciate it. Thank you!


	4. Evacuation

Author's Note: Ok, so here's Chapter 4. I certainly hope I didn't make Claire too weird or too bitchy here. After all, one would think that certain grudges would die hard. Anyways, onward!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 4: Evacuation

"Like, is there nobody totally alive anymore?! HELP MEEEEE!" Even when trapped in a situation like she was, cornered by inhuman beings, Claire Brewster expected to be obeyed and pampered. It was just part of her wealthy mindset. The two things below didn't care, nor could they. They were striking the tree with their 'arms', trying in vain to knock her down. Claire wailed as her demands for help went unheard.

"Hey, how'ya doin'?" That voice…. She remembered hearing that hoarse, obviously-male voice before. It was that distinct. She just couldn't place who it belonged to. She turned her head to face the most bizarre man she ever seen, floating beside her. He had greasy blond hair, foul-looking green teeth, red fingertips, and was wearing a black-and-white pinstriped suit that might have been pricey when it was freshly made. Keyword: Freshly… His eyes were yellowish, the pupils beady. He grinned at her as if he thought her situation highly amusing. She was about to complain about that snarky grin when her mind realized the fact that he was floating. Her eyes widened.

"Like, what is going on? I'm totally losing my mind! What are you?" she screamed, wriggling in fright, yet still refusing to release her death-grip on the tree trunk.

"Hey, chill a minute, Brewster. I'm here ta help, as much as I don't wanna" the strange being calmly stated, morphing into an iceman at the mention of the word 'chill'. Claire stopped her quivering and gazed at him. "Like…how do you know my last name?"

"My best friend knows ya. She told me to save your scrawny ass from these things" the gravity-defying man responded, looking at his fingertips as if bored.

"She did? Like, are you a total superhero or what? …HEY! My ass is, like, totally hot, thank you very much!"

"Pfft… I've seen better" BJ snarked. Thoughts of Lydia suddenly came to his mind… "Alright, one rescue, comin' up!" With his usual poof, he disappeared. Claire panicked, looking around for her 'savior' until she saw him reappear on the ground, standing a little ways away from the monsters. "Hey, you shoe store rejects! Anyone ever tell ya it's rude ta stick your foot in someone's business!?" he yelled, getting their attention. The feminine freaks stumbled toward him, 'arms' flailing wildly.

"Ooh, you'd be a 'shoe-in' for a costume contest!" he said toward the one in the lead, zapping a pair of ratty shoes on its 'feet'. The laces were tied together, causing it to trip and fall, flopping about like a fish out of water.

Its partner seemed to get mad at this and tried to run at Beetlejuice. "Ya think ya got some kick, huh? Can ya take a punch?" he asked, pulling back his right arm. His fist turned into an oversized boxing glove. The freak hesitated at this, giving BJ the cue to unload. The thing was sent flying, eventually crash-landing a block away onto the roof of an obviously-abandoned car haphazardly left in the middle of the road.

BJ reappeared next to Claire, floating. "Well, I hate to hit and run, but… wait a minute, I LOVE doing that! Let's jet, blondie!" he laughed, his entire body instantly changing into a small, one-person jet fighter. Nervously, Claire awkwardly transferred herself from her branch to the jet's left wing. After a quick glance down, she threw herself into the open cockpit and closed the hatch. BeetleJet took off, circling the mansion once.

"Welcome to Beetleman Airlines, your only ticket left to survival from all sorts of apocalypse! Zombie? Disease? Nuclear? You name your doom, I gotcha covered! Hahaha! Our next destination has three storeys, a sundeck, and contains the girl responsible for your continued existence, so ya better be damn grateful!" BJ had sounded very professional, but yelled the last part for emphasis.

"Like, alright! Just totally get going!" shrieked the annoyed blonde. The jet left, heading in a certain direction. At that point, Claire didn't care where they went, as long as it was somewhere safe. She didn't even mind that the cockpit smelled a bit funny, sorta like a bad combo of sweat and onions. As block after invaded block passed, she began to wonder what was going on. Her town being invaded and mutated, not even a sign of her parents throughout her ordeal, and now this… superhero? Was this freak show a villain's plot for world takeover, like in those comic books she often scoffed at?

She looked around to see if they could be approaching her 'hero's intended destination. She could tell that he was heading for the outskirts, a good idea. He seemed to be heading for a certain odd-looking yet nice, big house on top of a hill. She knew that house… Deetz!

"Oh no… No, no, no, no, no! Your best friend is that… that… dweeby bitch?!" Right at that moment, the BeetleJet stopped on a dime, the ghost growling. Beetlejuice's head burst out from the control panel, a horrible look of absolute rage on his face. "Listen here, you trend-happy, attention-seeking whore! I've had to put up with your shit for years because you wouldn't leave Lydia alone… What the hell did she ever do to you to make you bully her around all the damn time? All she did was treat everyone with what she calls 'respect', even to you. I know. As her best friend, she tells me a lot of things. A lot… I even watch over her sometimes when I'm feelin' really lonesome, but she's busy at school… I didn't want to save ya because of everything you did… but she asked me. Said it wouldn't be right if we just let ya die. I thought that it would be a good revenge, but no… And here you are, kicking and screaming just because your supposed 'nemesis' doesn't want you dead! Care to tell me how THAT works?!"

If he hadn't wanted to make sure to follow Lydia's request, he'd eject her out of the plane right then. But with a growl of annoyance, his head melted back into the controls and the jet resumed its flight to the Deetz house, leaving the blonde bimbo to think.

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

"…The art show with my 'Palm Tree'? That one road trip? Hotel Hello? You're telling me that all that… was in the land of the dead?" Delia calmly asked her daughter.

"Sigh… Yes, Mother" Lydia paced back and forth at her window, worrying about Beetlejuice and Claire.

"And that time we camped in those creepy woods? And Grislyland? And History Land?" Bertha chimed in.

"Yeah. I'm sorry I had to keep all this a secret from you. Can you imagine the chaos that would happen if the world found out? Not to mention, Mom and Dad, that you two probably wouldn't want me to see Beetlejuice anymore…"

"Well, he is a ghost, dear" Delia bluntly stated.

"Now, Delia. If Lydia's friend is a ghost that she met six years ago and she's still healthy and happy, then he's probably not all bad" reasoned Charles, noting the smile of appreciation on Lydia's face when she glanced at him during her pacing.

"I dunno… He was pretty rude when he was Betty" Prudence said, looking almost lost in thought. "Always belching and making armpit noises, but… he did make things pretty interesting, I must admit."

"I just realized! Remember during our camping trips and sleepovers? We changed clothes in the same place as him! A man saw us in our underwear!" yelped Bertha, blushing crimson.

"Calm down, Bertha. He may be a slob, but he's no predator" smirked Lydia.

The sound of a jet plane approaching got everyone's attention. Lydia looked out her window and, through the misty fog, could see a pinstriped jet heading for her window. She opened the window for them and the jet morphed back to Beetlejuice, Claire suddenly finding herself straddling her rescuer's back as he floated in.

"One bitchy blonde, as you ordered, Babes. Damn, I can't believe her!" snarled the ghoul, straightening up to vertical position, throwing off Claire who landed on the floor with a thud. She began griping.

"I take it she wasn't very cooperative" A smirk formed on Lydia's face as she shut and locked her window.

"Oh, she cooperated…until she found out that you're involved in her rescue. She called you a 'dweeby bitch'! Argh! That burns me up!" he shouted, spontaneously combusting on the spot, which surprised everyone, especially Claire. After his fire settled into a pile of ashes, Lydia calmly got a broom and dustpan and swept him up.

"Sigh… Thank you, Beetlejuice. I know it was rough for you, but it was the decent thing to do" smiled Lydia as she dumped BJ's ashes in a wastebasket.

"What the hell? Like, he explodes and you act like nothing happened?!" Claire snapped, unwittingly sharing everyone's sentiments, since they're not all quite used to the extent of his powers yet.

"He'll reform in a minute. A good deal of his powers work around things he says. His puns are, we could say, translated quite literally" Lydia told Claire.

"I see…" the blonde muttered, a look of confusion on her face. "Like… I guess I should… like… totally thank you or something… Didn't know you knew a superhero personally… although I guess that, like, explains some things…"

"You're welcome, Claire. Would you like some clothes?" the Goth asked, reminding Claire that she wasn't wearing much.

"And wear YOUR fashions? At least like this, I can flaunt my body" huffed the bombshell, striking a pose with one hand on her hip and the other in her hair.

"Flaunt it for WHO?! All we got's you, me, my parents, Bertha, Prudence, and Beetlejuice!" gawked Lydia, shaking her head. Even in a crisis, Claire antagonizes. Will she ever learn?

"Present!" called Beetlejuice as Lydia said his name, leaping out from the trash can, restored to his normal state.

"Well, your hero friend seems, like, totally single. Maybe he'd like to see this!" Claire boasted at Lydia, swaying her hips in BJ's direction. Everyone raised their eyebrows. Guess she won't learn…

"Uh, yer kiddin' me, right? Lyd's town's been invaded, I save ya, I blow your head off not less than five minutes ago and you pick now… NOW to get all competitive with her? And I thought I was stubborn. At least Lydia can attract someone with more than just her pretty body! So hows about a truce already? Perhaps you'll learn somethin'!" grumped BJ, barely noticing Lydia blushing.

Lydia approached and offered a hand to her rival. "Look, Claire. We seem to have a common enemy in whatever these monsters are. Can we put your grudge aside until all this is over? Survival is a bit more important…"

Deflated, Claire took a moment to think. She looked around at the ragtag group caught up in this nightmare. There were Lydia's parents, who even looked middle-class as they sat on the floor. Mrs. Deetz seemed to try to be trendy with her new beehive hairdo and artsy clothes. Mr. Deetz reminded Claire of her father during football season on Sundays, always trying to relax. Then there was Bertha and Prudence. Despite all of Claire's teasing, these two always seemed to be upbeat, like they didn't know of their imperfect looks. It always seemed like they… genuinely liked each other or something. Perhaps there's more to that 'friendship' thing than money…

Then, there's this Beetlejuice character. Lydia's personal protector. Claire knew that Deetz couldn't afford to hire a full-time bodyguard, powers or not. So why would a guy with seemingly endless power want to hang around with a dime-a-dozen average chick like Deetz? Whatever the reason, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to try and see what the big deal was… It wasn't as if she'd lose money by giving Deetz a shot…

"Like, I'll put it to you in business terms…" Claire started with a frown. Then, her familiar smug smirk appeared. Bertha and Prudence gulped. "What I propose is, like…. A merger!" she declared, grabbing the Goth's hand in a firm handshake that would make her father proud.

"I never thought I'd see this day…" said a surprised Prudence, her eyebrows raised as far as they would go.

"Me neither, Prune. Perhaps I got to her" replied Beetlejuice, relieved that Lydia has one less problem but wary that perhaps Claire would go back to her old ways after this crisis ends.

"Aww! Our little girl's only 18 and already making her first business deal!" chirped Delia, happy that Lydia's bully finally came around.

"Delia…" groaned Charles in restrained frustration. In recent years, he worried that his wife's mind had went as 'out there' as her art.

"Here's my terms, Lydia-dear. We are friends until your Beetlejuice can save our town. If I find out what's so special about the way you supposedly 'bond' with people AND if I like it…. Perhaps I'll consider totally making this merger permanent. Umm…. Ok?" the blonde continued her business-woman routine, despite her lack of clothes.

"That sounds reasonable, I guess. Thank you, Claire. Now, about some clothes…"Lydia led her to her closet. However, they were suddenly interrupted by a drastic increase in the volume of radio static. Claire nervously grabbed Lydia's hand. "That's what my radio did right before that thing arrived in my room…" she whined, her voice hollow.

Beetlejuice checked outside. "Babes? Brewster's right… I think I was followed…" Up the roadway, heading straight toward the house, came a small brigade of what appeared to be people tied up, worming their way. "Hmm… But those can't be all… Claire said her radio acted up when the monster was appearing in her room… which means… Forget the clothes, Babes! We should've done this bond-fest at the Roadhouse! We gotta exit stage left, pronto" Beetlejuice screamed, bolting for Lydia's bedroom door and nailing it shut with random 2x4s.

Suddenly, the blade of a giant, rusty, jagged, black knife burst through the door, plunging into Beetlejuice's chest. The tip of it came out of BJ's back. Everyone screamed, except for BJ who just looked annoyed.

"I dunno who ya are, pal… but you're lucky I'm a poltergeist. Otherwise, this would hurt a lot more. With that being said… ahem… YEEEEOOOWWWW!" he shrieked, dislodging himself from the oversized weapon and running around, clutching his chest. "Can we leave now, Babes?!"

"Yes!" was Lydia's reply, instructing everyone to hold hands. "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, BEETLEJUICE!" The group of 7 survivors vanished from this world just as the bedroom door collapsed, leaving an empty bedroom for a lifeless entity to find. Bearing the burden of having a giant metal pyramid for a head (or was it a really heavy helmet?), the macabre murderer hissed its disapproval, having been sure that souls were nearby…

Author's Note: Pyramid Head is here! Briefly, anyway… I plan for him to be back later with a bigger confrontation.

Next up: Shelter in the Neitherworld! New world (for most), new rules.

Does it bother many if I ask for reviews? I mean, I know it can get annoying, but I'd really love some feedback on how I'm doing. Thank you.


	5. Misguided Tour

Author's Note: And so, the mortals meet The Roadhouse. Hilarity ensues.

Disclaimer: I, as usual, own nothing.

Chapter 5: Misguided Tour

The Lost Souls Highway. Not many spirits make their residences on the vast, twisted stretch of road that always lorded itself over the abyss and over Sandworm Land. Not unless they're close enough to a city, anyway. A group of mortals and one infamous poltergeist appeared on the highway, a few miles from New Yuck City, standing in front of a warped-metal driveway that led to a crazily-designed, scrapped-together building. Everyone (except for Lydia and BJ, of course) gawked at the blatant sign of BJ's Roadhouse.

"This would be the Neitherworld, where the dead go to make an afterliving, so to speak. That over there's my home…" BJ briefed, his chest still hurting from that giant blade.

"Wait… So… You weren't, like, kidding?" Claire nervously asked. "You're dead?"

"Yep. Almost 640 years old! But you can chill, Brewster. None of my friends will eat ya. Besides, seems like you'll be livin' here awhile" he smirked. Claire gulped, quietly praying that nothing else would go wrong.

They walked down the driveway. A series of familiar honks brought a smile to Lydia's lips, despite her sorrow over her home.

"Doomie!" she called, cheerfully. Her first car drove over to them, happy to see his two owners.

"This would be Lydia's car. Yes, it's alive, has a brain and everything. Its name is the Dragster of Doom, but it likes 'Doomie' for short" BJ felt like a tour guide. So much so that his attire changed into that of a cheap carnival barker.

"She bought a living car?" Claire asked, eyes wide at seeing Doomie's mouth move as it honked a conversation with Lydia.

"Bought him? HA! She made him! We worked together on him, but the girl's clearly a natural at cars, just as she is with takin' pictures. Ahh, that feelin' ya get when ya think about how you and your best friend created a living being together… Ya know I love it!" Beetlejuice snickered, wondering if anybody caught his double-pun.

"Created… together…?" Charles raised an eyebrow. BJ had a winner.

"Yep! Nothin' like a guy, a girl, a little elbow grease… and let's not forget the right hunk o junk and a good carburetor, right Chuckaluk?" BJ guffawed, elbowing Charles lightly. Chuck could only nod as he watched his 'Pumpkin' pet her car.

"My, Mr. Beetlejuice! Your home is certainly quite artistic. Very abstract! I guess there's a benefit to Lydia coming here" said Delia, taking in the bizarreness of the Roadhouse. A senior moment, perhaps, as she didn't realize that she was inspired by it once before…

"Thanks! Wrecked it myself. Now, everyone except Lyds, I have to warn you. Always keep in mind that this is the Land of the Dead. Nobody inside my roadhouse'll hurt'cha, but you'll be a lot less likely to be scared shitless if ya remember that the walking dead are just normal folk here. Average joes and working stiffs, get my drift?" explained BJ, turning into a small snow-drift. "Good! Let's go in."

BJ grabbed the bone-doorhandle and pushed the front door open before floating in. Bertha and Prudence were the first to follow Lydia inside. Prudence nearly gagged when she realized that the bear-fur rug that was the welcome mat was merely roadkill.

"Wow… A skull-shaped fireplace!" gaped Bertha, wandering toward it. "Now that's gotta be one hot head!" she laughed, her laughter sounding as odd as ever.

"Whaddya know? The weird one's got a sense of humor after all!" grinned BJ as he plopped down on his dilapidated couch. He then frowned as his chest started bugging him again. Lydia noticed him palming it lightly as Charles, the last one in, shut the door.

"Are you ok, Beej?" she asked, standing in front of him, looking as if she wanted to just pull off his shirt and jacket and inspect the wound herself.

"I'll be fine. Damn, that creep myst've been packin' juice of his own. A wound like this should've healed by now…" he muttered. Lydia walked over to the nearby medicine chest, now stocked with plenty of first-aid after the few misadventures that involved sickness and injury. Grabbing some disinfectant and some gauze, she returned to her best friend's side and instructed him to make his jacket, shirt, and tie vanish. He obliged, giving everyone a gross view of his hairy chest and slight beer-gut. A narrow gash that had to be 5 inches long was obviously easy to spot on his right bicep, near the center of his chest.

Lydia began opening the container of disinfectant when BJ started in. "Babes, c'mon! Ya know I hate cleaning…" he groaned. His clothes came back on in stubborn defiance.

"Beetlejuice…!" Lydia said in that stern tone that told everyone that it definitely wasn't the first time that the ghost got stubborn with her. Her face softened. "I'm just gonna dab it on your wound. Besides, we don't know exactly what that blade can do exactly. I'd like to keep you in this afterlife, thanks. Please…?" she gently said, throwing in the very same kind of puppy-dog look that he used on her earlier that day.

BJ facepalmed, feeling like such a heel under her sorrowfully-cute gaze. Babes just lost her entire home and here she is, more concerned about his injury. She did have a point, though. There were plenty of incidents in the Neitherworld involving beings and weapons that could indeed destroy spirits like it was nothing. Seeing her wisdom, BJ conceded, his upper-clothes disappearing again.

Lydia applied the disinfectant on his chest, feeling him tense up. She smiled at him as he watched her right hand at work. Despite the stinging feeling of being sanitized and the fact that a cloth separated her hand from his chest, he didn't find her gentle ministrations all that unpleasant. Eventually, Lydia sat next to him and had him lean forward, tending to the exit wound.

While 'Nurse' Lydia worked, Claire perused the crooked bookshelf, becoming curious as she got used to being here. She was a little bothered that the dead seem to like reading about such things as haunting strategies, get-rich-quick schemes, and food recipes that required beetles. But then, she came across what appeared to be a macabre photo album. She pulled it off the shelf and opened it. What was spread throughout the pages seemed, even to Claire, to be a testament to how long her former nemesis knew this undead renegade and how close their friendship became.

Here was a set of photo-booth pictures featuring Lydia and 2 Beetlejuices. There was an old article on Lydia winning an award for "Favorite Mortal To Visit The Neitherworld". Here was a picture of a baseball team called "The Prankees", which featured BJ and Lydia among other non-mortals. There was a candid photo, marked as taken last year, of Lydia sporting a one-piece swimsuit that had a red/black spiderweb pattern as she happily relaxed on a towel, followed immediately by a photo of the poltergeist gladly belly-flopping into a pool of sludge.

In spite of the obvious non-Eartly oddities of the pics and articles, she felt… left out? Sure, she had the riches to get whatever she wanted and go where she wanted, but what good was perfection if one has nobody that genuinely wants to spend time with her, other than the usual 'satellites' that liked the money? It suddenly struck her that most of her happiest moments consisted of fashion finds at the mall and the all-too-familiar look of jealous amazement on normal people's faces (it didn't matter who's face). No camaraderie with anyone, no spontaneous moments to remember, just the goal of monetary victory. With a sigh that conveyed a sense of failure, she shut the obviously-treasured photo album and put it back, her mind left to ponder the lesson she had just been served.

As Lydia wrapped bandages around BJ's chest, Charles and Delia decided to turn on the TV, thinking that perhaps some entertainment might relax everyone a bit. BJ still had his little old-school TV, not having the money to afford a big-scream, high-deaf TV. A commercial for NTV's latest hit show, "Surreal Housewives of Salem County", was just ending and Mox News returned with a breaking story.

"In our latest report, the Neitherworld Government has just learned of a major attack on the mortal realm from clearly Neitherworldian sources, a federal offense. This action clearly violates the ages-old treaty between all the realms." At this point, everyone was watching. "Early investigations indicate that the affected area was a town called Peaceful Pines, Connecticut, allegedly the hometown of the Neitherworld's Favorite Mortal, Lydia Deetz. In any case, investigators have deduced that the one-man-prank-machine, Beetlejuice, was involved in the attack…"

"Yeah… as a victim!" the ghoul countered, despite the fact that he was grumbling at the TV.

"But some deem it unlikely that he was the perpetrator, as it would be considered a harsh betrayal against the only being in existence that actually likes that no-good bastard! Pardon my bias. The extent of the damage makes it even more unlikely to find Beetlejuice guilty." At this point, clips of the invaded town are shown. Things have apparently gotten worse. "As you can see, the curse that has been levied on the hapless town damages buildings, infects the living with abominable ailments, and unleashes demons created by the human mind's flawed psyche. Murder runs rampant as the-" the news anchor was cut off by Beetlejuice clicking off the TV.

"Hmph! This is the only time I'm glad they're not giving me credit for crime" Beetlejuice said, tossing the remote away. Lydia had just finished wrapping up BJ's bandages, currently just sitting next to him, her head in her hands.

"You're a criminal?!" Of course, the girl's mother would blow a gasket over that statement.

"Naah… Just a prankster. For some reason, people think my pranks are 'wrong' or 'illegal'. Pfft! Just havin' a li'l fun is all…" He crossed his arms, indignant.

"And I suppose you dragged Lydia into some of your 'pranks'?" Beetlejuice recognized the beginning of a holier-than-thou attitude when he heard it. He kept calm, though.

"Look at it this way. If it wasn't for her, I'd be dead again. Seriously, I mean that."

Lydia snapped her fingers. "I got it! Beej, remember when you became a superhero and I was your sidekick?"

"Yeah?" He remembered, alright. He still has his complete series of the tragically short-lived comic series, "Lydia Deetz, Cub Reporter", all in Lint Condition (which actually meant that it looked like new). Lydia had even autographed Issue 1 for him.

"Well, in some ways, we've always been like that. We look out for each other, we get into many adventures, we have rivals and villains that occasionally act up, and we've even performed a few daring rescues."

"Hmm… Lyds, I couldn't have explained it any better!" BJ cackled. With a snap of his fingers, there stood UltraBeetleMan, flexing his muscles for all as Lydia gladly snapped pics of him with her camera, wearing a paparazzi outfit.

"There is no city that can't be saved as long as I and my trusted sidekick are on the case!" declared BeetleMan with a faux-noble tone and a cheeky grin. "We are legion! Oh wait, wrong reference! Haha!"

Just then, a door that led to a small corridor opened to reveal a certain French skeleton. The new mortals froze. Jacques looked around, forlorn.

"Mon dieu… It iz true, isn't it, Beeatlejuice…? Lydia's home iz…"

"Not-So-Peaceful Pines… Yes, bonehead. But it's not stayin' that way. We're gonna get it back…somehow" The ghoul's body deflated back down to normal.

"Umm… Everyone, this is Jacques LaLean. He's very charming and friendly. Don't let his lack of a body throw you because he's our resident fitness expert" Lydia introduced.

Jacques waved. "Bonjour, humans! I am sorry to hear about your home. Please feel free to stay here as long as you need to" the skeleton offered.

"Yeah. What happened was just awful!" came a shrill female voice from above. A fairly-large purple-and-pink spider crawled down from her ceiling home. Claire screamed while Bertha and Prudence clung to each other.

"And here's Ginger. She's a tap dancer. Yes, she's a spider. And yes, she is a lot bigger than what we're used to back home. But she doesn't bite."

"A tap dancer? But isn't having all those legs an unfair advantage?" Prudence asked, noting the tiny shoes on all eight of Ginger's feet.

"In skill, I guess. But I rarely get hired… Not a lot of people like spiders for some reason…" Any of the newcomers had their own responses to that, but out of decency, they kept silent.

"Gee, I wonder why…" But who ever said Beetlejuice had decency?

"Um… So what now?" asked Charles cautiously, almost afraid of what else might be living in the roadhouse.

"We lay low for now until we discover a lead on who the hell caused this or at least learn what exactly happened. What we have here is a declaration of war!" BJ instantly turned into his hulking General Splattin form. "The enemy dares to bring the battle to the homefront! In turn, we shall send whoever's responsible home with our combat boots up his ass!" Beetlejuice's rally got Jacques, Ginger, and even Bertha and Prudence into an uproar around him and Lydia, words of support and eventual victory raising everyone's spirits.

Charles shook his head, his mouth curled up into a resigned smirk. "I still wonder what exactly Lydia sees in this… this ghost, but it is something. A witty remark, a weird transformation, and instantly vowing to confront whatever did this, no matter how powerful the opposition might possibly be… and we have the living and the dead teaming up for the cause, just like that."

"Well, like, when strange incidents happen every so often, you like totally get used to it… so I hear… I'm still taking all this in" Claire replied, watching in amazement as the 'General' continued his crazy pep rally.

Used to it, indeed…

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

Morning was a new experience for the survivors. First thing, besides the hacking caws of the morning rooster skeleton, was some of the 'beds' that Beetlejuice had provided. Of course, Lydia had a full-size bed. In recent years, BJ decided to give her a bedroom of her own in the Roadhouse in case she wanted to sleep over. Bertha and Prudence slept on what BJ called 'scare mattresses', which was optly named because they would growl loudly whenever somebody got on them. The two outcasts shared Lydia's room.

Charles and Delia were given a guest room close to Jacques' apartment. A decent room, if a bit dusty. A double-bed, gothic in appearance with black silk sheets, lay in a corner with a nightstand next to it. The Deetzes took notice that on the nightstand was a framed photo of Lydia when she was 15. There seemed to be plenty of pictures featuring their daughter around in this building. They slept reasonably well, considering the occasional bizarre noises, such as Jacques' bones rattling when he got up for a drink of water.

As for Claire, she had finally gotten a set of clothes to wear. Beetlejuice had tossed her one of his signature pinstriped suits, one of the smaller ones from his teenage years to better suit Claire's slimmer frame. However, he had to groan when Lydia took the suit and went to wash it before allowing Claire to get dressed. She felt like a fashion disaster, wearing a man's suit. 'I look like I'm totally going butch-lesbian…Yuck!' she thought when she looked into the cracked bathroom mirror.

Then, when it was time to get around to getting some sleep, Claire found out that Beetlejuice was apparently still pissed at her. Despite Lydia's minor protesting, BJ insisted that she sleep down in his dungeon-like basement/boiler room.

"Beetlejuice! That's not right! We have plenty of guest rooms…" Lydia frowned. The Roadhouse's basement was never safe, not with BJ's hatred of cleaning.

"C'mon, Lyds! She's always been tryin' to bury ya" he replied, dirt suddenly piling on him. "Let's bury HER!"

"As long as she behaves in this truce, I'm not taking revenge" the Goth said bluntly, turning away from him. The foot was down.

Sighing, the ghost conceded and made a compromise. And so, Claire found herself sleeping in a closet that was only long enough to barely fit Claire's body lying down. When morning came, she was awakened by the hustle and bustle of everyone else after they woke up and dressed. Getting to her feet, her body ached, paying her back for the uncomfortable sleep. As she stretched her back, she noticed something on one of the shelves of odds and ends that caught her eye. A purple bottle of… perfume? Being the paragon of style that she is, she grabbed it to take a closer look. The title of "New U" emblazoned in a bold font gave Claire the impression that the stuff was either good or just pretentious crap.

Only one way to find out…

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

"So… everyone sleep like a rock?" Beetlejuice asked the small menagerie of mortal exiles. His body instantly morphed into a boulder, accidentally crushing the chair he was sitting on. Most of the group had congregated in the dining room, except for Ginger (who usually just ate whatever flies that got trapped in her webs) and Claire. Jacques was busy preparing a human-style breakfast, having some knowledge on making good meals, thanks to the many years of Lydia's constant presence.

Delia, who had finally realized the roadhouse as the place that inspired her small art studio, took to wandering about the room, in awe of its 'style' and 'creativity'. Charles sat at the table with everyone else, ready to eat. Bertha and Prudence, being the nerds that they were, began discussing how the Neitherworld could have 2 moons if it's supposed to be a parallel of Earth. Lydia sat next to Beetlejuice, snickering at his rocky gag.

"Yeah, Beej. We slept fine. Hmm… Where's Claire? Still sleeping?" Lydia asked, looking around for her ex-nemesis. BJ turned back to normal, his usual toothy smile on his face.

"I'll go see, Babes. It's time for her to get some breakfast anyway" he replied, strolling toward the living room. However, as soon as he walked in, he was sent flying (and screaming) back into the dining room by a flying pair of booted feet. Everyone gasped and yelped as BJ flew past them and crashed into a hutch of cracked china plates. Obviously, the hutch fell over and the china broke. The group looked back toward the living room to discover a greasy-haired, pinstriped-suit-wearing, angry girl glaring at Beetlejuice.

"Yo, Beetlebreath. I gots a bone ta pick with ya!"

"C…Claire?!" shrieked Lydia, Prudence, and Bertha.

"Who were ya expectin'? Ms. Freakin' Universe?!" snorted the new Claire as she stormed over toward the fallen poltergeist. At this point, Jacques rushed in to see what happened.

"Sacre bleu! Beatlejuice, what did you do?"

"Hey, you try gettin' hit by a flyin' dropkick and tell me how it turns out" BJ grumbled as he got to his feet. Lucky for him, his odd chest wound was healing nicely. Jacques looked toward the vile girl.

"Madame Brewster, I know zat Beatlejuice can be harsh to live with, but could we perhaps just zettle down to ze nice hot bowl of ze oatmeal?" the skeleton offered, his hands raised in a calming gesture.

"Well, that would be just wonderful" Claire replied, suddenly cheerful. "Thank you very much, Mister Jacques" She bowed politely for added effect.

Lydia's jaw dropped. "Claire actually thanked someone? With genuine gratitude?! That cinches it. Something's wrong here. No way she got over her old attitude overnight…"

Claire lightly coughed to get everyone's attention. "Please pardon me, everyone. There's just one thing I have ta do before I join ya for breakfast" At this point, Delia was gushing over how sweet and darling Lydia's new friend had become, as if Claire's attack on BJ never happened.

"And that is…?" Prudence dared to ask. Claire frowned and turned toward Beetlejuice.

"Make this bitch-ass ghost pay! Put ME in a damned closet, will ya!?" the former snob said, getting into a fighting stance. "C'mon…"

Beetlejuice smirked, the penchant toward mischief as obvious as the green on his teeth. "Fist fightin', eh? Haven't done that kinda thing since that bar brawl with Jesse Germs a few years ago. Been relyin' on the ol' juice! But alright. I've been itchin' ta give ya some payback for your years of bullyin' anyway!"

"Beetlejuice!" snapped Lydia as BJ put his dukes up…a pair of actual royal dukes from Europe… then he raised his fists.

"She started it!" he replied, barely dodging Claire's first punch. "And if I don't start swingin', she's pissed enough to end it!" BJ then threw a left hook that managed to graze Claire's face as she moved to dodge it.

"Close… but not a hit, bastard!" taunted Claire as she countered with a low kick to his left leg. BJ yelped, then responded with a kung-fu style palm strike that hit Claire in the face, knocking her down.

"What was that about hits? Ha! I know how to fight. Picked up a few tricks during all those adventures, so yer gonna have ta do better!" BJ bragged, stepping around with some fancy footwork. Claire got up, huffing almost like an angry bull.

And so, Delia, Charles, Bertha, Prudence, and Jacques watched as the pinstriped poltergeist and the preppy fought as if this was the Street Fighter tournament. Lydia left the room, going over to inspect Claire's 'bedroom'. As she crossed the living room over to the closet hidden away in a corner by the different types of material and design that the unusual walls consist of, she instantly saw the problem lying just outside the closet door. The split-personality making cologne, New-U. Memories of her one-time stint as an unruly biker came to her and she knew what she must do…

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

The small group of spectators that was everybody else scattered away from the table as Claire's body was slammed through it by way of Beetlejuice using a pro-wrestling suplex. Both 'competitors' are battered and bruised, having hit each other with punches, kicks, throws, submission holds, and their favorite: any blunt objects they could get a hold of. All this within the 3 minutes since Lydia had left the dining room…

Claire slowly got to her feet, her back sore from the impact, her right arm and forehead bleeding. She took one of the bigger chunks of table remains and flung it toward Beetlejuice, who smashed it to splinters with one juice-powered punch. However, the rotted wood was merely a distraction as he saw a bit too late that Claire had thrown herself into a feet-first baseball slide in his direction. When she was in range underneath him, Claire punched his 'family jewels' as hard as she could.

BJ bent over, clutching his groin and lightly shrieking in a high-pitched voice. Prudence, Bertha, and Jacques had to snicker at BJ's comical misfortune as Claire got to her feet and, with a clenched fist, raised and dropped her right arm as if elbow-jabbing an invisible opponent, letting out a triumphant "Yessss!". She then strolled over, certain of victory, and was about to backhand him across the head while he was still dazed when BJ made a sudden move.

He grabbed her by the ankles while he was still bent over and pulled, causing her to fall backward. Much to her chagrin, she fell back-first onto some shards from the busted table. As the jagged pieces of deadwood dug into her back, she let loose a stream of profanity that would never leave the mouth of Normal-Claire. She slowly sat up, chunks of wood hanging from different areas of her clothed back and arms.

Beetlejuice grabbed one of the scattered-about chairs and, with only a second's hesitation to raise it over his head, he smashed the seat down on her head, shattering the wooden piece of furniture. Claire fell back down, in a total daze.

"Consider us even… ya stubborn jackass…" BJ panted, kneeling down to inspect the fallen mortal. A bump could be seen forming on her head, if her hair wasn't so thick (even when greased, that's a lot of hair). He checked to make sure that she was still breathing, which she was. He began to lightly roll her over to pluck the shards of wood out of her back when her hand shot up and grabbed him by the throat. Never in all the times he'd seen Claire bully Lydia had BJ seen a look of such cruel triumph, the devious smirk on her face appearing so unnatural…

"Me thinks you should've 'staked' the situation out!" she snapped, grabbing a jagged length of wood and stabbing Beetlejuice in the right arm. Old blood slowly leaked from the newest flesh wound as the poltergeist fell over, clutching his arm and screaming. Claire was just getting to her feet and was about to kick BJ while he was down when both fighters were interrupted by a powerful spray of water that pushed them both against a wall and held them there as the water kept coming. After half a minute, the water stopped, the source of which ended up being Lydia, armed with a fire hose and an annoyed disposition.

"This match is a washout" Lydia said in perfect annoyed deadpan, dropping the hose which reeled itself back into a roll in its station.

"Auugh! Babes! I'm… CLEAN!" Beetlejuice screamed, trying to brush off the cleanliness like a little boy trying to get rid of cooties.

"Eww, YUCK! I look like a murder victim!" Claire shrieked, wishing she had her compact makeup kit. She focused on trying to get water out of her borrowed suit.

"Hey Beej. Remember this?" Lydia asked, lightly tossing a certain purple perfume bottle at him. He caught it and instantly recognized it.

"Hey, my 'New-U'! Where'd ya fi-… oh… Guess that explains Claire, huh?" he said, giving Lydia his oh-so-familiar guilty chuckle and grin.

With a sigh, Lydia decided to explain. "Throughout our adventures, we've acquired quite a few… mementos. However, most of 'em can be dangerous if used wrong. In this case, meet the 'New-U' cologne, an invention of Beej's that has the surprising side effect of changing your very personality into what could be considered its polar opposite. I should know. I got turned into a renegade biker chick" Her deadpan tone could easily rival that of Todd from 'The ChromaZone'.

"Wait… You mean I was, like, actually fighting Beetlejuice?! I thought I was totally dreaming…" said Claire as she was wringing her shirt, the borrowed jacket hanging off a chair.

"Nope. That was real" Lydia answered with a smirk.

"Wow… I didn't think I had it in me. Hehehe… Like, we're even for the shampy treatment, ghost boy!" the blonde bombshell grinned, shaking the last few drips off of the shirt.

"Hmph! Ya got lucky…" BJ muttered, easily tending to his wounded arm.

"Whoa! A scent that creates split personalities! Cool!" Bertha gawked, trying to imagine what her opposite persona would be like.

"You see, Charles? His house may be an artist's dream, but the man himself is clearly a danger to Lydia" Delia's snippy comment was capped with crossed arms and the type of frown that Beetlejuice knew all too well during his prankster career.

"Yes, that would be the typical mother-like response to something like this, but have you considered the fact that all of these supposed adventures must've had some positive effects on Lydia?" asked Prudence, watching as the aforementioned Goth girl prompted her Beetlejuice to fix the furniture. With a couple of zaps, the table, chairs, and the china hutch were repaired instantly. "Throughout our friendship, I've never known anyone as strong-willed, generous, and genuinely accepting of her own quirks as well as ours. Having met Mr. Beetlejuice and having known him as 'Betty', I get the feeling that some of life's lessons she learned weren't learned at home. I'm not saying you're bad parents or anything, of course."

Ah, good ol' Prudence, ever the voice of logic and reason, even in this surreal situation. At least, this was how Charles sees her. Despite recent developments, the overstressed father never had a grudge against 'Beetleman'. Sure, Beetlejuice had scared him, creeped him out, and made him unsure of BJ's sanity, but because it seemed that he's been a great friend to his only daughter, he had no particular beef with the ghoul.

With the table having been reset, breakfast was served…

Author's Note: So, how about that? Beetlejuice vs Claire in a good ol'-fashioned fight. I wonder if I'm not the only one that thought that a fight would be a way to settle that particular score. Either way, I think I'm the first one to write up such a concept (Correct me if I'm wrong, of course). At least, BJ and Claire are now at some sort of understanding now.

Next: More Roadhouse adventures, plus the Peaceful Pines problem returns to the forefront with an unexpected problem…

As always, REVIEW! Please?


	6. Enjoy The Silence

Author's Note: Here's the next chapter. A little random, but eventually gets things back on point.

Disclaimer: 9 14 22 13 13 14 19 8 9 13 7 (Just thought I'd try something new with this. Crack the code!)

Chapter 6: Enjoy The Silence…

The next couple of days weren't uneventful, that was for sure. After the New-U disaster, Beetlejuice had relented on his bias against Claire, though it was blatantly obvious to everyone that he only conceded because of Lydia putting her foot down. Bertha and Prudence couldn't help but think up of a few 'whipped!' jokes to possibly use occasionally. Nonetheless, Claire was first given the couch to sleep on. It was a wreck, but it could be comfortable in the right position.

That didn't stop the team from finding out the next morning that the blonde beauty had promptly slipped into the Land Of Lost Stuff in her sleep! Groaning in frustration, Beetlejuice had everyone stand on the couch. They all sank through the cushions and fell through the spiral warp into the messy underground realm, just like BJ and Lydia had done once before.

The exiles were, of course, astounded by all the misplaced stuff as they explored the land. Charles had found the remote control for his TV that he'd misplaced weeks ago. At one point, Beetlejuice ventured ahead to scout out possible places where Claire could have gone. When he returned, his face was a bright-red and he seemed a little freaked.

"What's wrong, Beej?" asked Lydia, worried.

"Well… Ya know how this realm is sorta divided into sections, like the Land of Lost Marbles and the Land of Lost Luggage?" BJ asked, looking back where he came.

"Yeah?" Lydia raised an eyebrow, as did Bertha and Prudence.

"Uhh… There's this place over there… Full of little pinkish pieces of flesh… Umm… Turns out it's the Land of Lost Virginities"

"EWW!" cried everyone in unison.

"That is scientifically impossible!" stated Prudence, not wanting to think about the idea of her own 'barrier' floating around in a big pile of other girl parts.

"In this realm, when you lose anything, it ends up here somewhere. And I do mean anything" Beetlejuice replied, his face going back to its usual pale de-composure.

"Alright, alright. We gotta find Claire. Hmm…" Lydia said, calming everyone down.

"How about the Land of Lost Causes?" Beetlejuice suggested with a smirk.

"BJ, that's not helping…"

"The Land of Lost Integrity? The Land of Lost Self-Respect?" At this point, Bertha and Prudence couldn't keep from snickering. Those did sound very Claire-like.

"Beetlejuice!"

"Why not the Land of Lost… Hey!" BJ gasped, noticing something in a pile of random knick-knacks. He dove into the pile and dug around, eventually coming out with a small purple-ish cloud of some nameless material. "I think I found Claire's dignity!" He looked it over and his face went a sore red. "Oh, wait… No… The label says this dignity belongs to me…"

Prudence and Bertha burst out laughing at this. "Oh God, I didn't think you had any!" Bertha guffawed. Lydia had to smile a little as her favorite ghost fumed and crammed the cloud of dignity into his suit jacket. Those kind of jokes were kinda infectious. But she had to get back to the point as she noticed some numbers falling in the distance.

"We better move. A show just lost ratings. Better pray it isn't ours!" Lydia said, moving forward on the path.

"We're on the air? I thought this wasn't an episode of our NTV show" BJ wondered aloud, remembering his antics at NTV Studios, especially that time where he got promoted after Mr. Monitor cancelled his show.

"If my perception of this place is correct, the concepts of reason and logic were lost when we got here" Prudence theorized, taking notes in her iPad to analyze later. The short redhead loved researching new phenomena and the Neitherworld was fast proving to be a gold mine for her.

"Figures…" the poltergeist muttered.

Hours later, after Delia just HAD to look around the Land of Lost Art, they finally found Claire at a familiar place: Camelost Castle. She was at the top of its highest tower, enjoying the view.

"Hey, Deetz! How do you like my new castle! I found it, like, just sitting here and there's totally no one here at all! Not even any furniture, so, like, it's totally up for grabs. How about it?" the blonde shouted down when she saw the group.

"Well, that is very nice, but we gotta get back, Claire. This is Camelost. Unfortunately, it's meant to stay lost… When we get back, we'll let you have a proper room this time" Lydia promised, jabbing BJ with an elbow when he groaned about it.

"Aw, man… No fair, Lydia! Like, I like having a castle!" Claire pouted. Then, an idea came to BJ as quick as his smirk.

"Yeah, but since there's no one here besides you, who's going to clean the entire place when it gets filthy?" he shouted up, knowing just how the wealthy girl would react.

"Like, OMG, you're right! I'll be right down!" she answered, right on cue, rushing away from the window. Lydia gave him a smile and a thumbs-up, glad that they wouldn't have to drag her ex-bully out kicking and screaming.

After that adventure, it was decided that Claire gets a proper guest room. Of course, she complained about how grungy the room was, but that was expected. It was better than something else happening overnight!

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

The next day, things once again got interesting when, during lunch, the Neitherworld Police came to arrest Beetlejuice. Of course, Lydia was outraged.

"Arrested for what?!" she screamed at the chief. Clearly, the stress from worrying about her hometown was beginning to take its toll.

"Well, he was the only undead citizen present in your Peaceful Pines when the attack happened. Logically, he's the prime suspect. Not to mention, mortals aren't supposed to be here long-term. You were the only exception, Ms. Deetz, and that's only because you can supposedly keep that idiot under control" came the gruff reply. Delia shook her head, the look of "I told you" on her face.

"But the news said that few believed that he was responsible because of me" she pointed out, her arms crossed.

"Yeah, we know. But we got orders, ma'am"

"Orders from who…?" she pondered. Her answer came a short time later when the squad car that carried Beetlejuice (followed by Doomie carrying everyone else) arrived at a familiar courthouse. Lydia snapped her fingers in realization. "Judge Mental…"

"Who's being judgmental, Pumpkin?" asked Charles.

"No, Father. The judge we're about to see. His name is Mental. He's been trying to destroy Beetlejuice for years. It's been tough, but I've played the role of Beej's lawyer whenever Mental tries to get him for something" Lydia briefed everyone.

"Like, you do law here?! Criminal law?" Claire was astounded by how involved her new friend was in the realm of the dead.

"Definitely not as a career, but as many times as I had to defend BJ, I've learned a few tricks of the trade" Despite the situation, Lydia just had to smile. Mental was cold, but not impossible to beat.

The group made their way into the morbid-looking building, a sense of foreboding coming across the newcomers, a feeling as if this Judge Mental wasn't exactly the nicest of people. And they had a right to be scared… Upon entering the darkened court, the bailiffs harshly separated everyone else from Beetlejuice and Lydia and herded them into the audience pews as the accused and his 'lawyer' approached the all-too-familiar defendant stand, lit up by a sole spotlight.

When they stood ready, more spotlights turned on. One aimed at the group of mortals that have comprised the small audience, one aimed at the empty plaintiff stand, and one aimed at the judge's really high throne-like podium, illuminating the skeletal being as he glared down at his most hated of perpetrators.

"All rise for the dishonorable—"

"I'm in no mood for formalities, bailiff. This court is now in session, the case of the Neitherworld Government vs. Beetlejuice." The withered skeleton then smiled. "Oh, I've waited for this to happen. I've waited for centuries and after all this time, I finally get a case against you that I can't lose, Beetlejuice. The law will win and you will finally get the just punishment you deserve. And why? Well… No one ever survives after a charge of Treason ends up in front of me…"

"Treason? Oh come on. Filling the mayor's new car with battery acid hardly seems like treason, your honor" Beetlejuice said calmly with a smirk on his face.

"No, although the plaintiff might have something to say about that…" quipped Mental as the plaintiff and prosecutor stepped into the plaintiff's spotlight. Bad ol' Mayor Maynot.

"I oughta rip you limb from limb myself, Beetlebrain, but business first. You are hereby charged with the destruction of the mortal town of Peaceful Pines" the mummified politician could barely contain the grin on his face as his dream of a destroyed Beetlejuice may finally be realized.

"A load of crock, good mayor!" snapped BJ, turning the Mayor into a crocodile. "I was with Lyds the whole time. How could I have done this kinda thing to an entire town? That would take a hell of a lot of juice, much less a mind more twisted than mine, considering some of the things I saw there…"

"You were the only undead being in that town! How could you NOT have?!" Mental roared. Lydia had seen enough.

"Objection, your honor. This trial is fast becoming a total farce, and that's even by Neitherworld standards. He was with me the whole time. We all know that something big like that would require a lot of power and obvious effort to conjure up. I have 2 other witnesses that can back me up when I say that Beetlejuice did not curse my town! This is just another attempt by you and the Mayor to see Beetlejuice annihilated and I will not stand for it. Besides, last I heard from the news, there was no evidence that anyone is responsible yet. Even people that have never set foot in court know that if there's no evidence, there's no case" Lydia finished her speech, her hands on her hips, glaring at Judge Mental like a mother would glare at a misbehaving child.

Mental's frown went deeper, if that could be believed. "Ah, but you forget the other treasonous crime. Harboring mortals and having them know of the afterlife! You forget the honorable decree of the Creator himself that living mortals are not to know any part of this existence until each mortal's destined time of death. The only reason we dropped your charge of knowing of this world was because we had noticed a steady decline of Beetlejuice-related destruction soon after your… 'debut' here. By the time we had come to a decision, you had started making friends here…"

Mayor Maynot had morphed back to normal at this point. "Indeed, Ms. Deetz. And since you were so friendly to everyone, I didn't think that kicking you out would reflect very well for me on Election Day."

"You're putting BJ on trial for saving my family?!" Lydia stammered. "But they were gonna die back there!"

"Look at it this way. They would have arrived here anyway!" Judge Mental couldn't help but chuckle at his own logic, enjoying the looks of distain from the mortals.

"And do you approve of this, Mayor Maynot?" Lydia asked, not really expecting a positive answer.

"The deaths of your friends and family? Personally, no. But laws are laws, Ms. Deetz. And since it's Public Enemy #1 at fault, I'm more than happy to see that he gets worse than SandwormLand!" Maynot laughed heartily at that. Lydia heard tales of worse Neitherworldian criminals on trial. Knowing the hate between the Judge and Beetlejuice, she could imagine only one sentence that Mental would give: Second Death Penalty.

It was the rarest and highest sentence given in any sort of afterlife court, since the populous was already dead anyway. There were ways in which to kill what is already dead and any Neitherworld prison had one of these ways. In any method, both the body and the soul are eradicated from existence, banishing them to a colorless void of oblivion. It was pretty much the concept of being rejected from Heaven, Hell, and even Purgatory.

"Wait, so… we're like… illegal aliens or something?" Bertha said from the pews, getting the feeling that the two law-upholding beings weren't going to treat them as hospitable as Beetlejuice did.

"Well, the logic makes sense, Bertha." Prudence answered, tinkering with her iPad again. "If we humans were supposed to know about the afterlife, we would all know since our creation and perhaps we would all have one belief, one religion."

"Ah, a mortal with logic. At the very least, I am glad to see that humankind isn't all just a mass of ignorant gluttons. Perhaps, small one, after we deal with your… problem, you might be interested in being a part of Neitherworld Court? We can never be short on thorough thinking these days."

"My problem, your honor?" Prudence gulped, nervous.

"The fact that you're alive, small one. You see, in cases where mortals do discover the afterlife, our law dictates that we… well, to 'sugarcoat' it, as they say, we make them citizens." The look on Judge Mental's face could not be any more serious.

"Like, is there a ceremony for new citizens?" asked Claire, curious.

"It depends on what you would like. Beheading, electrocution, or firing squad?"

"Those don't, like, seem like cheerful choices, your judge-ness" Claire said, crossing her arms in a 'how rude' gesture. However, everyone else got the idea. A few seconds later, the wealthy debutante finally got it.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold the phone!" the blonde snapped. Immediately, Beetlejuice lifted an entire phone booth over his head. "You can't just, like, kill us off! We're… what's the term? …Refugees! Yeah! We're refugees! You can't just kill us for needing safety! Our home was totally attacked!"

"I would have to agree with Claire, your honor. That does seem rather unfair for our situation" Charles added as calmly as he could, thinking that a calm tone would appease the skeletal authority figure.

"Or artistic" Delia added. Everyone then looked at her. "What?"

"What does art have to do with this? We're probably gonna die!" Bertha griped, clinging to Prudence, who clinged back. Claire was looking every which way for a possible escape route.

"Order in the court!" roared Mental, hammering his bone-gavel on the little skull he used for it. That didn't stop Beetlejuice from quipping "More like disorder in the court…"

As the exiles grew quiet (mostly out of fear), Lydia began to speak, once again in her professional manner. "Your honor, there's got to be some agreement we can reach here. I realize that this type of situation has never happened before in the history of the Neitherworld, so granted, there's technically no special precedent that would spare you from upholding the law. However, we're not dealing with a man-made incident, like… say, an invading foreign army on a killing spree or something. Whatever this is…. It... it's inhuman!"

Maynot huffed. "I see your point. It is often said that no matter what the Creator put down as law to counter any and all wrongdoing, it is in the Devil's nature to deceive all in order to keep some plans hidden from the Law… I suppose it was a matter of time."

However, Mental bared his teeth. "Inhuman or not, this is what the Law decrees!"

"Objection! Your point of view is biased, that is no secret! Besides, what about everyone else in Peaceful Pines? I doubt the Creator intended for these… supernatural deaths to be a part of life. Mayor, how's the local Waiting Room?" Lydia asked, referring to the port where the newly-deceased first appear and wait to be processed by Neitherworld Gov't's paper-pushers, the Damned.

"Uhh… A lot more crowded than usual, Ms. Deetz. The Damned can't seem to figure out how to properly sort them out. Umm…There's… no paperwork that supports these kind of deaths. Not to mention, a couple of them had to be… rejected" He spoke as if he were the one on trial for treason. There was a good reason for it. No one had been rejected from a Waiting Room before, not even living people in comas since they never officially arrived in the Waiting Room but only hover just outside it.

"Rejected…?"

"Yes, Lydia. Rejected… There were… mutations… and they started mindlessly attacking anyone. We had to destroy them…" the Mayor never liked the idea of destroying innocent souls. He much preferred just taxing them. "Is this thing an infection?" he added, sulking.

"Sorta like someone going postal at an Earth DMV, huh?" Beetlejuice commented, off-handedly, a light smirk on his face. Maynot glared, not just for Beetlejuice's nerve to say such a thing in court, but also for how right the poltergeist was…

"You see, your honor? What would it achieve to kill my friends and family? All that would do is add more problems to the Waiting Room. 'Oh, these people were killed in response to knowing about the Neitherworld which was a response to unknown supernatural causes'. Yeah, that flows real well on proper forms… This whole case is pointless. Beetlejuice didn't do anything, the humans are refugees, and you're just going to have to wait until somebody can find out who did all this. We need definitive action, not childish finger-pointing" At that point, the mortals clapped for Lydia, lightly so they wouldn't agitate the Judge further.

"Now that's how you win a case" said Prudence, immensely proud of her Gothic BFF. Charles and Delia couldn't be happier that their daughter was smart. Even Claire seemed impressed. Once again, her life is spared because of this ex-enemy.

Mental sighed. The mortal girl had a point…again…as she always does. "As there is no outstanding evidence to support the case… sigh… I hearby throw this case out…"

Every mortal (and Beetlejuice) cheered. BJ and Lydia hugged each other in celebration. Another day, another obstacle overcome. However, the celebrations came to a sudden end by the banging of the gavel.

"However… I dare say that I'll take you up on a suggestion, girl… You wanted action? You'll get action! I hereby decree that you and that blustering dumbass will solve the mystery of your hometown! Who did it, why, and how it all can be restored! If you fail… well… seeing as the Neitherworld Government is tasking you with what appears to be a capital terrorist case, one would think that you two would be made to pay for the problems of the Waiting Room if you fail. Heh heh heh…" The smugness of Judge Mental's snicker didn't fail at dampening everyone's cheer, that was certain. But at least everyone was free to go. However….

"Like, wait! Your world's cops couldn't totally do it, so you're making us solve it? What do we know about curses?!" Claire fumed. "Don't you like care about restoring things to normal!?"

"Claire, calm down! I'm sure we can come up with a lead or a clue" Lydia said, taking her by the arm so she can go with everyone else. One look at Mental told Lydia that he didn't appreciate Claire's latest input… The blonde can have such a grating effect on people when she wanted to…

"But… but… we're like just normal people! I'm a wealthy student, you're a creepy Goth girl, Bertha and Prudence are like nerds, your folks are regular ol' parents, and your Beetlejuice just seems to be some sort of… umm… local personality? I mean, yeah, like he's got superpowers and junk, but none of us are detectives!"

"Detectives, huh?" said a low, slick voice from nearby. The group turned and noticed Beetlejuice in a tan trenchcoat and brown fedora hat. Lydia had to grin at the familiar alias. "The name's Sham Shpade, Private Eye. I'll see to it that this down-trodden town isn't gone for good, see?"

"You will, huh?" called Judge Mental. Something about his tone seemed dangerous… "Well then, feel free to start right now!" he stated, pounding his bone-gavel. This time, Beetlejuice simply vanished, much to everyone's surprise.

"Beetlejuice!" Lydia gasped.

"Oooh, that's one way to carry out a sentence. Creative!" Delia chirped. Charles knew better, though.

Judge Mental smirked, his bony visage appearing sinister. "Heh… What a better place to conduct an investigation than the very scene of the crime! Hahaha!"

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The silence was deafening. At least until it was replaced by the loud scream of a falling Beetlejuice before he hit the concrete face-first. Knowing he's going to feel that for a while, he slowly pushes himself up, getting to his knees. Looking around, he sees nothing much except gray fog and the black concrete beneath him. The air felt cool, but not the pleasant cool of a nice breezy day. No, it was the kind of cool that felt like a storm was coming… Only there was no storm.

Standing up, he tentatively takes a few steps forward, wondering just where he is. As he walks, he can barely make out shapes of buildings to his right and left through the thick sea of dull-gray. Moving toward one of the rows of buildings, he looked at them and saw that they were in a state of abandonment, broken windows, boarded-up doors, dirt and dust everywhere. It almost seemed like this place hasn't been occupied in years. Certainly seemed quiet enough to have been the case…

He continued walking down the street, passing one ruined building after another. A ransacked bank, a torn-down 'mom and pop' store, an empty deli… Places that seemed vaguely familiar. Eventually, he came to the end of the block and an intersection. Knowing that no cars would be coming by, he crossed the street. 'Why the hell would Mental send me to a ghost town? Is this supposed to be Hell? Purgatory?' Beetlejuice thought, his head looking this way and that, trying to see through the fog. As he reached the opposite sidewalk, he saw the silhouette of another building straight ahead. For some reason, Beetlejuice seemed to realize the shape of it, along with the surrounding hedges, gate, and courtyard…

He ran closer to it. 'No, he couldn't have…' his mind raced as he ran toward the two-story battered building. By the time the fog let him have a decent view, he was right in front of it. Looking straight up, he noticed the sign, worn and decaying, some of the lettering completely gone…

"Ms. S_nnon'_ Sch_l fo_ Gir_"

The doubt was gone. His first reaction was to teleport back to the Neitherworld. However, no matter how he concentrated, he just wouldn't warp. His powers were locked up! It would seem Mental had finally gotten one up on him, after all these decades of evading his justice. A cacophony of enraged thoughts swarmed within the poltergeist's head, but the silence continued, malicious and uncaring…

Mental had sentenced him to Peaceful Pines…

Author's Note: Cliffhanger, sort-of. Alright, so the story's back to the main problem at hand.

By the way, the chapter title is a musical reference. Points to anyone who can name the band that performs the song the chapter is named after. I'm thinking of possibly making this a running gag, chapter titles named after songs and reviewers can guess the bands while reviewing.

Speaking of which, please review! Thanks.


	7. The Long Hard Road Out Of Hell

Disclaimer: Guess what? Still don't own any of these intellectual properties.

Chapter 7: The Long Hard Road Out of Hell

The doors to the Neitherworld Courthouse burst open as an angry Goth teenager stormed her way out, forearms quivering in rarely-seen rage at the sheer nerve of Judge Mental. It wasn't at all like Lydia Deetz to be furious at anything. Hell, she had expected some form of double-cross from that wily judge. But this particular trick… Sending Beetlejuice to the cursed Peaceful Pines without any of his powers, nobody knowing what kind of monstrosities might be roaming around? Not surprising, but a very grim situation. Her fellow humans followed behind her.

"At least we know where he is…" Charles said quietly, immediately feeling ridiculous after saying that, even though that it was pretty much the only bright side to this problem.

"True, but we can't do anything. Any of us going home to look for him would be quite dangerous and thus pointless" stated Prudence, watching as her best friend got on board Doomie's bus form. She'd want to be alone also if any of her small group of close friends were figuratively force-fed to the wolves while she couldn't do a thing to help.

Trailing behind, oddly usual as it seems, is Claire. Being part of a wealthy family and raised with a snobby mentality, she knew a thing or two of the concept of class warfare. However, even with her years of mysterious Beetlejuice-related setbacks, she had never truly been on the receiving end of obvious bigotry…until now. Her face was a blank mask as her mind repeatedly played back Judge Mental's disgust-laden comments toward her group just because they were alive. Somehow, this kind of difference trumped anything financial…

_10 minutes ago…_

"_Beetlejuice Beetlejuice BEETLEJUICE!" Lydia frantically cried for the 3__rd__ time. Once again, no Beetlejuice, not even a warp back home. Mental cackled, his gavel lazily swaying back and forth with his hand._

"_You pathetic air-breathers are so gullible to the concept of hope. A frivolous waste of time, if I do say so. Why bother even thinking that somehow you can beat my sentence? It is as iron-clad as your eventual death." he droned._

"_He'll survive! He'd let himself get eaten by sandworms before letting such a stubborn old goat like you get the last laugh!" Lydia stated fiercely, her confidence in her best friend radiating like a full moon's glow._

"_Hah. I don't even know why the Creator allows life to go on anymore. Gullible, ignorant of justice, defiant, brainless… Creatures like yourselves are a prime example of…oh what's that 'charming' layman's phrase you humans have?… Oh yes… A prime example of 'a crotch-stain on the underpants of society'… Now get out of my sight before I hold you in contempt!"As Mental stormed, his bailiffs roughly shoved the group of exiles toward the exit, at one point knocking poor Prudence to the ground. However, Lydia refused to be shoved around. _

_Having been through years of misadventures in the Neitherworld, Lydia had learned a few things about how to get out of hostile situations. As the group reached the door to the lobby, Lydia grabbed the nearest bailiff's nightstick off from his belt and jammed it into his gut. As he bent over, she clubbed the large undead thug on the head, knocking him out. She cooly tossed aside the blunt weapon and, before a mad Judge Mental could think of a suitable punishment or the rest of the bailiffs got violent, quickly herded the group outside the courtroom, where his "sentencing" powers had no effect and slammed the doors shut right on the bailiffs' faces... _

Back in the present…

Bertha noticed Claire's lack of attention as the blonde aimlessly passed by the group, which had stopped nearby Doomie when Delia wanted to take a picture of the Neitherworld Courthouse. (Why she always kept a digital camera on hand, not even Charles knew.) "Umm… Claire? Are you ok?" the tall nerd asked, walking alongside her. Claire took a step onto the green bus and looked back at the outcast. A moment of odd silence passed between the two.

Finally, Claire spoke. "Like, no… That bonehead… He… Was I like that?" For Bertha, the question brought back memories of numerous cruel barbs and pranks throughout the years. Her mind conjured up a wide variety of snappy comebacks to choose from as her answer. But that would be just as cruel as the judge they had just faced. Instead, she chose a wiser path.

"Claire, this may seem totally corny, but let me put it to you this way… You're still young and you can change. That guy… He had an eternity to be what he is today. Think about it" With that, Bertha went to see how Mrs. Deetz's latest photo op turned out.

As shallow as Claire used to be, she never took a lot of time to actually think about most things, much less imagine something. But think about what Bertha said, she did. An eternity… She couldn't help trying to picture herself as a bony old undead biddy standing on a street corner, her hair mostly gone with the exception of a couple of blackened strands, her eyes nothing but abysmal pits of inky nothingness, her mouth contorted to a so-shallow-it's-creepy grin as she continued to bray about her wealth and beauty and how much better she is than everyone while other dead souls just tuned her out. The thought sent shivers of revulsion all over her body as she sent the mental image away before it continued on. Still shuddering, she got on the Doomie bus….

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It had been a long time since Beetlejuice and Lydia stopped by this familiar building. Good ol' Ms Shannon's School for Girls. However, only out of respect for nostalgic memories with his best friend (after all, he hated school), BJ wished that coming back here was on different circumstances… The building was trashed, with a majority of the windows boarded up, giving it a look that it had been abandoned for a couple of decades, despite the weirdness only occurring more than a week ago. He stood in front of the small stairway leading to the main doors, which were slightly ajar. Perhaps he should have been interested in how disgustingly appealing the school had now looked, but… he just couldn't shake the feeling of unease that crept up his spine.

He doubted that the fog was the cause of the feeling. He knew he was probably not as alone as he would like… What bugged him was the fact that he couldn't tell what he was dealing with. (That and, of course, his lack of Juice.) He remembered the giant blade that had impaled him during the invasion and wondered if there were plenty of freaks that couldn't be taken down by merely punching or kicking or using whatever wasn't nailed down. Damn, he had to get home.

The best way he knew of getting back to the Neitherworld was by going to Lydia's house and going through the familiar triangular Door. He knew the way back by heart, but without flying, he knew it was going to be a while. A dangerous while. Turning back toward the road, he started to run. But suddenly stopped. What was that? A noise, he was certain it was a voice, came from inside. His entire body told him to just get the hell out, keep moving and head to Lydia's before any more Hell-bound shit goes down. Curiosity turned out to be a formidable foe.

A part of Beetlejuice's mind mused that he now knew what it was like to be in a video game where, despite having a clear mission to accomplish, you just can't help but explore your surroundings… Too bad that he wasn't in a laughing mood. Giving in, he walked back up to Ms Shannon's and headed up the stairs. Did he just imagine the voice? Did somebody actually survive this town-wide Armageddon? Or was it nothing more than a deadly trap? Frowning while making a mental note to kill whatever part of his brain contained his curiosity, he pushed the door open and went forward. He had entered the unknown.

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

Panic wasn't a new emotion for Charles Deetz, the familiar nervous jittering sensation creeping up and down his body as he once again assessed the situation in his mind. Watching the decidedly dreary-yet-lively scenery of the Neitherworld pass by as Lydia drove the Doomie Bus, he sat in the back area opposite an equally-silent Claire. He knew a panic attack was trying to set in and he didn't need the antics of his currently camera-crazy wife to add to it. A few times since the Invasion (he had come to think of that incident as such, even with the capital "I"), he had begun to wonder if Delia was really ok. But she seemed chipper, despite everything.

But that wasn't what he was thinking about. He thought about how crazy life could be to some people. One moment, he's just an average family guy with a wife and daughter. The next, he finds himself part of said daughter's secret second life involving supernatural conspiracies. Ha ha, Life. Ha ha. He then realized that he wasn't alone in this cosmic joke. The young blonde across from him was a prime example. One day, the town's resident rich prima-donna and Lydia's bully. The next… well, they do say that one can't tell when a reality check will get cashed in on her.

But he had to admit that, if he had met someone from the underworld and became friends, he'd probably keep it secret too. Friends would freak out (which he thinks probably happened to Lydia when the Invasion happened), family would REALLY freak out (he was admittedly guilty on that one), and who knows what would happen if word got everywhere. Government investigations/experiments? Everybody wanting their own dead friend? People wanting to go to the Neitherworld the hard way? Who knows? Then again, word might have gotten out to the rest of the world about Peaceful Pines by now… so perhaps many of his fellow humans are feeling the same shivers about what happened.

Still, he can't help but think 'What next?'.

He got his answer as the Doomie Bus passed what seemed to be a government building labeled as a "Waiting Room". Hapless undead citizenry were running in panic out of and away from the building, causing Lydia to stop as they kept running into the road. Remembering what the strange mummified Mayor said about there being some Invasion-related problems with these Waiting Rooms, he ducked down from the window, hoping that his dear daughter doesn't decide to go investigate.

Considering how brave and helpful Lydia tends to be, he knows that she'd probably try to do something. That fact is just as plain as Delia rapidly snapping pics of the fleeing Neitherworldians… It figures.

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

Chaos.

One thing that chaos guarantees is that you never see the exact same thing twice, that's for sure. Sure, some chaotic events may have similarities, but the unpredictability is always there. Beetlejuice, standing in a broken-down hallway, had a hard time trying to figure out the scenery around him. Rust-covered walls, chained-off doors, scattered debris, torn paperwork, blood trails, claw gashes in the floors/walls, beat-up lockers, even the occasional shit stain. 'Good thing somebody had enough time to crap their pants…' thought Beetlejuice, wishing that the morbid sarcasm could be appreciated by others besides his own brain.

As it was, BJ was getting just a little wary of the warbling voice (if it was even a voice to begin with…) as he slowly forged onward down the hall, past a couple more chain-blocked doors. Grimly, he noted that a pool of blood was oozing out from beneath one of the blocked doors…The next door, to his right, was unlocked. He frowned at this discovery. Of course, this door was accessible. It just had to be this one. Lydia's old classroom… Taking the hint, he turned the knob and went in, as calmly as anyone entering a normal room would. After all, uneasy feeling or not, there's no way there would be a sandworm in there.

The room was…perfectly normal, aside from the now-usual coating of rust (or whatever the hell it was) on almost everything. The desks, tables, and chairs were still neatly arranged, despite their newly-decrepit look. A method to the madness, perhaps? No matter to BJ, considering the situation. He slowly tread his way to the teacher's desk, not too far off from the doorway. Memories of peeking in at Lydia during class came back. She'd be paying attention to the portly, redheaded Miss Shannon's lecture, he'd be trying to ease his own boredom while getting her to have a little fun. Good times…

But now, the teacher's desk was sadly empty. Except for one oddly-clean, white piece of paper, placed abstractly on the desk, a sharp contrast to the grungy appearance of everything else. Again, grumbling about curiosity, he picked it up and read it. It appeared to be some sort of quiz, although an odd one. There seemed to be only one question… Multiple choice.

_1) Your past is…_

_A) A Viking swordsman, killed by an enemy raiding party_

_B) An insurance salesman gone mad_

_C) A millionaire seeking new thrills and having gone too far_

_D) A failed scientific experiment that had tried to carve a living for himself_

_E) Oh what's the point? Even the chalkboard knows you're having a bad day, Beetle-joke!_

Immediately, Beetlejuice looked at the chalkboard. "Rust"-covered, like everything else. But there was something written on it in huge letters. Letters that weren't there when he entered. Red letters. Bleeding letters…

"WHY AREN'T YOU LAUGHING?"

It was after he read that when he heard scuttling noises and the scraping of metal behind him, like multiple people drawing swords. He turned around and instantly guessed what had happened to some of the children here. Pale, faceless little humanoids with what appears to be varicose veins all over their bodies like a spider web gone wrong. All of them were wielding rusty, jagged pieces of metal. And all of them charging at Beetlejuice.

A "bad day" seemed more and more an understatement by the second… And Beetlejuice still didn't feel like laughing.

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

A sickening thud of metal meeting corrupted flesh momentarily silenced the loud, horrible growling of the former-Neitherworldian across from Lydia. Indeed, she had entered the Waiting Room's lobby, having come across Mayor Maynot's problem: a mutation. What once was a newly-deceased soul had turned into a 6-foot, bulbous, barely-humanoid lump of pale flesh. Torn, thin gouges around its "head" qualified for eyes and a mouth. Withered tendrils at the end of its bloated "arms" used to be human hands and fingers. And whatever it had for a brain was clearly predatory, as it swung its arms in Lydia's direction as soon as she came in, as if it were a grizzly bear.

Luckily, she had enough experience with dealing with the Neitherworld's hostiles to roll aside (while letting out a little shriek) and grab the first item she could grab for a weapon: a… tire iron? Deciding not to question her luck, she shrugged and tossed the 4-pronged tool at the anomaly like a giant shuriken. Even more fortunate was her accuracy, the improvised weapon striking the demon on it's head. The blow seemed to have dazed it, causing it to stumble across the room more so than it was before.

Lydia quickly scanned the room for something else she could use, for if she left it alone and ran, who knows what would happen to any recently-deceased that would be unfortunate enough to pop into that particular Waiting Room. Not much seemed useful out of the random clutter that the lobby had become, just loose papers, random knick-knacks of the deceased, and furniture. Her only chance seemed to be regaining that tire iron, now laying near the stumbling beast.

'God, help me' she thought, taking a chance at the fact that the thing was stumbling away from the displaced weapon. She ran. A short distance of a few feet, seeming so far away in the chaotic danger. She ducked, grabbing the metal tool. But when she stood back up, she was met with a huge "fist", sending her flying back into a wall.

That one hurt. But she'd been hit with worse and nothing seemed broken. She staggered to her feet, glad that she managed to hang on to her weapon of choice. Shaken, she could somewhat see the freak lumbering toward her, obviously angered. It seemed she only had one chance. Mustering what strength she could, she stepped forward, her right arm ready, muscles taut. She swung high….

Luck, in its purest form. Or maybe divine intervention, like David had with his battle with Goliath. Either way, a side of the tire iron was embedded to the intersection in the mutation's skull, sending it toppling over. Its body missed collapsing onto Lydia by inches as the momentum of her swing caused her to stumble to her right. Her eyes wide with fright, her breathing rapid, she clung to a nearby seat to regain her bearings. And no one, if there were any spectators, could blame her, being so close to death.

Five minutes had passed. Lydia had cleared her head enough and had just gotten back to her feet when Bertha and Prudence entered.

"Lydia! Is everything ok? I-WHAT THE HELL?!" were Bertha's exact words as she first saw Lydia and then noticed the abomination, laying there like a rotting wrecked parade float.

"If that's your reaction to it being dead, I'd hate to see what you'd think of it if ya came in here a little earlier" Lydia said, pondering the same question herself. What the hell were these things, exactly?

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The only problem with being really short was that, a lot of times, it was relatively easy to get tossed around or beat down, especially if you happened to be a mindless drone with a one-track mind. One by one, the vein-webbed minions were thrown or booted across the room as Beetlejuice maneuvered around their repeated attempts to stab him with their rusted metal shards. Unfortunately, they apparently could take a lot of physical punishment as the tossed ones got back up and stumbled back into the fray. BJ climbed onto Ms. Shannon's desk, creating a temporary relief from the height-challenged terrors, some of which thrust their blades toward BJ in a very futile attempt which looked more like they were pointing at him.

Looking downward around him, while eyeing his crazed opponents, he couldn't help but notice something about the desk itself from his new angle… More crazy writing. This time, it looks slightly faded in a dark color, as if it's been there for a while.

"_Math talks in riddles._

_Science is amusingly logical._

_History is just repeating acts._

_Social studies = sitcom!_

_IT'S ALL A JOKE!"_

Not amused by the strange message or its potential meaning, BJ decided it was time to leave. Waiting until the freaks drew in close around the desk, their savage instinct not yet grasping the idea of climbing, BJ took a step and leaped over them. Stumbling as he landed, he rushed past the now-disorderly rows of desks and left the room, slamming the door.

"And here I thought there was zero tolerance of bullying!" he couldn't resist yelling at the closed door, as if the demons inside could understand language. It was then he noticed that he still had the paper with the one multiple choice question. He glimpsed at it again, to try and make some sense of the question. There was a letter at the very top of it, obviously red. It was a D.

"What the…?" he muttered, lowering the paper. "That wasn't there before… Besides, a D? What for?" He glimpsed at it again. As if to answer his question, there was more new writing…

"_Teacher's note: You forgot to DIE!"_

"Hmph… That's the first direct answer I've seen all day. I'm already dead, you assholes! HA!" he exclaimed in triumph, giving the door to Lydia's former classroom a kick to emphasize his point. Immediately, rapid scraping noises came from the door. Definitely not a smart idea to keep kicking that particular hornet's nest. Paying the noises little mind, BJ crumpled up the so-called "test" and threw it aside.

Perhaps it was a good time to just leave the literally-damned school and head toward Lydia's…

He went back down the hallway he came from, toward the entrance….only the entrance wasn't there anymore. It was just more wall… Where the door was instead was a message, again looking like it's bleeding…

"_Class is still in session!"_

Somebody really doesn't want him to leave…

BJSHBJSHBJSHBJSHBJSH

"Can't blame the police for not wanting to be back here with us…" muttered a shivering Prudence, sticking close to Bertha. "Nope… I certainly can't…"

Quite obviously, it was left to Lydia and Co. to secure what was left of the Waiting Room, due to the police force having heard of Judge Mental's decree that "Team Beetlejuice" solve this problem. What was most annoying was their cheers of gratitude toward being relieved from going in there. So much for the local cops having courage…

The front end was no problem, thanks to Lydia fighting its sole occupant. However, the front was merely the tip of the iceberg. Seeing as a smaller party seemed to be a wiser idea, Lydia, Bertha, and Prudence slowly crept through the door to the office area. The office rooms ranged from just disheveled papers to completely totaled, but there seemed to be a pattern. The closer they got the back end, the more wrecked each passing office looked. The last few seemed to have a strange problem with rust, even though the only metal objects were the filing cabinets and small office supplies. Who knew drywall could rust?

Not to mention that it was a blessing that Lydia decided to keep her tire iron! As she opened one particular office door, something sprang out at her. Lydia ducked while Bertha and Prudence stumbled back in surprise. The strange creature ended up flying over Lydia's head and slamming itself on the opposite door, collapsing to the ground in a flurry of panicked claws. The dim lighting gave away the indication that whatever this was clearly wasn't anything friendly. Some sort of spidery demon dog…which quickly righted itself and pounced at Lydia again, mouth wide open.

Last-second reflexes blessed Lydia when she quickly held out her tire iron to block, causing the beast to chomp down on the metal instead of flesh. Its mouth held fast, as though perhaps it had the canine instinct to think of it as a bone to gnaw on. Lydia went pale as she quickly realized that its jaws were extremely close to snapping down on her right hand, since both hands were holding it by the ends. But her realization went quick as she pushed forward and slammed the foul being against the door again, this time breaking it open. Both human and demon fell into the wrecked office, tumbling upon one another.

Lydia, her fall cushioned by the freak show beneath her, quickly got back to her feet and grabbed her weapon out of the dazed demon's mouth. Thankfully, the hard blow to its skull rendered it disoriented for the moment, giving Lydia enough time to spot the nearby tall, rusted metal file cabinet and realize that if it tipped over, it would land on the enemy. She went over to the side of the cabinet, grabbed it by the back end of it, and pulled. Thankfully, it slowly started to tip, heavy but not too heavy for Lydia. A second passed, then two. The demon dog-thing was almost back on its spidery legs, shaking its head like it just got a bucket of water dumped on it.

"It seems you still have some forms to fill. Here's all you need, sir!" Lydia groaned as she pulled the last little bit she needed before gravity took over.

THOOM!

While not squashing it flat as a pancake, the fallen cabinet did do enough damage to render it unconscious…or kill it. Having to climb over the cabinet (since its fall semi-blocked the office doorway), she left the wrecked office and rejoined her watching friends.

"And remember to sign in triplicate, sir!" Prudence chimed in, chuckling despite herself. Seeing Lydia's resourcefulness had a calming effect on the brainy redhead, a belief that perhaps things might work out somehow in this trek through Hell.

Bertha couldn't help but wonder how Lydia could be so…relatively calm in such an encounter (compared to herself and Prudence, who couldn't help staying back in fear and/or doubt). Two savage monsters in the span of a half-hour and Lydia doesn't freeze up at all. Almost as though… her and "Betty" had seen conflict before. 'What the Hell has this world shown you, Lydia?' she thought. Although, whatever Lydia's secret history was, Bertha was thankful that her best friend knows how to survive, that's for sure!

"Yeah! And your mom's maiden name there! And your initials here!" Lydia replied to Prudence's remark, trying to keep everyone's spirits high (no pun intended). After all, who knew what was in the next area, just a couple of doors ahead… The actual Waiting Room, where newly-dead souls first find themselves at…


End file.
